Holiday Cheer
by CurbItKirby
Summary: Monroe and Gwen spend various holidays through out the year together. From Ground Hog's Day to Christmas. Spin off of 'Animal'
1. Groundhog's Day

Groundhog's Day

"I don't see why we have to do this."

Gwen ignored his whining. She stood on her tip toes, attempting to see over the crowd. "Because, it's like, tradition. Besides, it wouldn't kill you to get out of the house for a bit."

"How is gawking at an oversized rat a tradition?" Monroe pulled his tan overcoat closer to his larger form. He cocked a brow down at her. "Is this some kind of Pagan thing?"

"First off, I'm not Pagan." The petite woman rolled her eyes at him. She fixed her home made knitted cap with pale fingers. "And yes, covens do typically celebrate new arrivals today, but my coven isn't. My coven never does."

The man blinked at her. Was she seriously just going to stop there? She stared back at him, nonplussed by his annoyance. Finally, he told her, "I don't see what the rat has to do with anything."

"Me either." Gwen shrugged. She zipped her tight leather jacket up. "I just wanted to go out."

"And we had to go _here_?" He asked. The park was crowded with people, eagerly awaiting the groundhog's prediction. Monroe was displeased with his own presence at such an idiotic event. "We couldn't have gone to like the mall or a movie or somewhere you know, _indoors_?"

The brunette shot him a pointed look. "Where were all these suggestions when we were in the car?"

Monroe gaped at her. "Are you _kidding_ me? I never _stopped_ saying it!"

"Oh. Well…" She blushed faintly as she tried to think of a retort. "No one forced you to come you know. You could've stayed in bed and ignored me."

The Blutbad had considered this. But, given the choice of being alone and spending time with Gwen, he would almost always pick the latter. Not that he'd ever let her know that. "You wouldn't let me ignore you."

"Well, you could've tried a little harder." She reasoned with a grin. Gwen grasped his arm. "Now, you can either lift me up so I can see, or we can go get some hot chocolate."

"There's a café down the street."

"Spoilsport."

After she looped her arm in his, the pair made their way to the small café. They chatted idly about whether or not the crowd would turn on them if they did something to the groundhog before deciding it wasn't worth the risk.

Monroe opened the door for her. "Would you really want to touch it? It could have rabies."

"Good point." Gwen smirked and thanked him for holding the door. She pinched his scruffy cheek. "Good boy."

He bared his teeth at her. "Do not start with that again."

She said nothing, opting instead to take his hand and lead him inside.

The café was fairly busy, no doubt getting substantial business from the crowd outside. Monroe bristled whenever someone brushed past them. His eyes narrowed at anyone who came too close or so much as glanced in their direction. The woman didn't seem to notice as she peered up at the selection board. Protectively, the Blutbad put a hand on her lower back as the teenager behind the counter leered at his… friend.

Gwen glanced up at him. "What's up?"

Monroe gave a grunt. The brunette leaned against him casually and smirked. The fact that his gaze had sharpened at the kid across from them had not gone unnoticed.

The boy, no older than sixteen, swallowed and choked out, "W-Can I help you?"

Gwen ordered for the both of them. A hot chocolate for her and a latte for him. She shuffled down to the pick up area. When Monroe stayed rooted to the spot, glaring at the boy, she shuffled back and dragged him over by the lapel of his jacket.

"Down, boy."

His eyes sharpened at her, flickering red as he bared his teeth at her. Gwen remedied this with a bat of her eyelashes and a squeeze of her arm around his waist. The Blutbad's frown mellowed somewhat.

"Don't get cute." He warned, a smirk pulling at his mouth.

The witch nodded. "I'll be good."

"Hm."

"So…" She glanced at the crowd outside the window. "How's your friend on the police force?"

A twinge of shame tugged at Monroe's side at the mention of Nick. Over the few months he had been spending time with his neighbor, he hadn't so much hinted at the fact that the detective was a Grimm. Not that he had exactly _outted_ the witch next to him. Well, maybe he had, but Nick seemed to believe it was good for him to have some company. Especially female company.

"He's fine."

A barista called their order number and Gwen went to get it. She paid(as she usually did when she 'dragged' him out of his house), and all but skipped back to him. She paused to speak to a woman with a toddler on the way back, accidently flashing her black eyes to the child. They shared a few warm smiles and the boy waved to her as he left with his mother.

"Who was that?" Monroe asked as she sat down next to him. He had managed to snag them a table near the window.

Gwen smirked, but said nothing. This peaked his interest and he glanced out the window to watch the stranger and child walk through the bustling crowds.

"Part of your coven?"

"I'll never tell." The woman paused, handed him his latte and reconsidered. "No. They're not."

Monroe chuckled at her sudden change of heart. It was not uncommon for Gwen to lose focus or rethink things- even things right out of her mouth. He inhaled the steam from his latte. His eyes peered over the rim curiously at her.

Gwen took the hint. "I can't tell you the details, but she went to my grandmother for something."

"Ah, the renowned Morgan _Ceridwen_." His tongue tripped over the Welsh name, but the brunette didn't seem to notice. "The baker slash medicine woman."

She pointed a Band-Aid covered finger at him. "That's the one."

"How's she feel about all this?" He was referring to her spending so much time with a Blutbad. She didn't seem to pick up on that.

"All what? Groundhog's day?"

Monroe shot her a look of disbelief. It was clear he thought she was a moron, but Gwen ignored this, brushing off his insults as she typically did.

"She freakin' hates it. Fuzzy oversized rats with big teeth and stupid mortals worshipping it."

"I don't think they really _worship_-"

"One of their many foolish, 'cute' traditions," Gwen bent her fingers in a sarcastic notion at the word cute. An odd twang slipping into her voice. He tilted his head at it, but once again, it went unnoticed. Or maybe ignored.

The Blutbad sipped at his latte. The steam making his sensitive nose twitch. "She doesn't like, uh, _mortals_?"

"She likes them fine; she just thinks they're dumbasses."

He snorted out a laugh at her blunt tone. "She sounds lovely."

"She is." Gwen told him sincerely. Her eyes softened slightly, "What about you? Where's your family?"

Monroe licked his lips. After a moment he shrugged, "Upstate."

Knowing that was all she was going to get out of him, the petite woman nodded awkwardly. "Awesome."

"Awesome," He repeated with his features drawn tight.

Gwen frowned and shuffled her chair closer to his. He eyed her skeptically. The woman said nothing, just rested her head on his shoulder. A small smile pulled at his lips. The Blutbad opened his mouth to say something, anything, but changed his mind and nuzzled against the soft wool of her cap.

There was nothing that needed to be said.

**A/N: Okay, the backstory of 'witches' are not based of Grimm or folklore so far, in any way. Just my own sick imagination.**


	2. Valentine's Day

_Valentine's Day_

"No, don't do that." Monroe pointed at her before she even got all the way up his porch steps.

She paused mid step. Arching a brow, she asked, "Do what?"

"Make it weird," He snapped, gesturing with his hand to her outfit. "With the dress and the front door and whatever the hell _that's _suppose to be."

Gwen frowned at him. Then at the tiny stuffed bear in her hand. "It's a gift. I thought we were gonna hang out today."

"So, you brought me a teddy bear? Seriously?"

"I was gonna get you a bigger one but I was afraid you might try and hump it."

"Gwen!" He blushed faintly. "You're not coming in here like that."

"Like what?" The woman cackled, grinning widely. "Well dressed and baring gifts?"

Monroe continued to glare at her. It was a bit difficult glaring at her face; in fact it was a bit difficult keeping his eyes on her face period. Her dress was surprisingly modest, and he kind of wanted to take in this new side of Gwen. "That's right!"

"I thought we were gonna grab dinner?" She continued her walk up the stairs, showing Monroe her flashy black heels. He frowned at them, his gaze sweeping up her short legs to where her light pink dress fell to her knee as she carried on. "A crappy cheap one and mock all the happy, lovesick couples together?"

The Blutbad crossed his arms knowingly at her. His stance firm and oddly cocky as he asked, "If that's all we're doing why'd you get dressed up?"

Gwen scoffed at him as she gestured to herself. "What? You think this is for you? _Ha_."

The brunette invited herself inside.

Inwardly, the man wondered why all his acquaintances thought that it was completely appropriate to just barge into his house. Then he registered just what she had said. A growl rose in his throat and he turned around. "Than who are you dressed up for?"

He sniffed the air absently, but didn't smell anything –any_one_- too unfamiliar on her skin.

She didn't notice. It was only the second time she had been in his house. The first time she had been in the back, delivering a basket just after dawn to his back door. They'd had coffee in the kitchen. This was not the kitchen. This was the den. Gwen moved over to a table off to the side. It was covered in various tools and magnifying glasses. She picked one up as she set the stuffie down.

Peering through it, the smaller creature asked, "This your clock stuff?"

"Yeah, it's my clock stuff," Monroe stomped over to her and ripped it from her hand. He sniffed her out, frowning. He couldn't smell anything beyond her own sweet, burnt sugar-like scent. "Where've you been?"

Gwen smirked at him. Her hands rose to his shoulders, and she rubbed them gently. "Calm down."

His hackles fell somewhat, but he continued to scowl. "Well?"

"I went out to lunch with my grandmother." The woman ran her hands down the length of his arms. She lifted a hand to touch his face while taking one of his own with her other. Gwen tickled his beard with her finger tips.

Monroe wrinkled his nose, suppressing a smirk as he asked, "Just Morgan?"

A nod. "Just Morgan. Her and my grandfather used to go out for Valentine's Day, so…" The witch shrugged. She pulled her hand away. "I thought I'd take her out somewhere nice."

"Oh. Well." He crossed his arms defensively. "That's nice."

"You don't have to apologize for being a jackass," Her lips pecked his cheek. "I shouldn't have teased you."

Gwen picked the teddy bear up off the table and shoved it into his chest. "Besides, jealousy suits you."

"I wasn't jealous! I don't do jealous."

She shrugged. "Whatever. Just don't get too weird when summer rolls around and I start going to orgies."

Monroe chuckled. Gwen didn't. His smile fell, "Wait, what?"

"Come on, let's go!" She grinned spritely at him and sauntered toward the door. "I'm starving!"

The man grabbed his jacket and followed, dropping the teddy to the floor. "Wait, what was that about an orgy?"

The couple –completely plutonic couple- wound up strolling through downtown Portland, as they often did when they were out. The air was brisk, with tiny flakes of snow falling from the sky. Neither seemed bothered by the cold however. They spoke mostly of trivial matters; the weather, the holiday and of course, Gwen was eager to know why Monroe was single on Valentine's Day.

"Come on! You're a young, virile Blutbad." Her Welsh accent slipped at the word, mangling it, but she didn't pause, "Surely you could find more than one bitch to give you attention."

"I've got you, don't I?"

"Oh, that's just _mean_." The woman slapped him on the arm.

The man sighed. He tugged his hands deep in his pockets. "I had a girlfriend, you know, before I…"

He hated explaining it. People always wondered how he could turn against his nature, why it wasn't easy for him to adjust to being 'normal'. Monroe didn't want to let Gwen know he was dangerous. Or had been dangerous at any point. Sure, she knew he was a Blutbad, but she didn't need to know all the seedy details. His brown eyes flickered over her face. It was open and trusting, as it usually was.

"Went straight?" She offered.

Her pale cheeks were rosy from the cold, he noticed. The man considered her choice of words. Slowly, he nodded, "Yeah, I guess you could call it that. We were together a while, but I guess you could say we grew apart."

"I'm sorry." Her tone was soft. Gentle.

"It was no one's fault, really." Monroe shrugged. "How about you? Why are you alone?"

Gwen shrugged. "I'm not very good company, I guess."

"Oh do not pull the emo crap with me, Ceridwen." The Blutbad elbowed her lightly in the side. Grinning suggestively, he teased, "Come on. Share your dirty little secrets with Papa Wolf."

"What did you just call yourself?" She cackled, moving away from his playful touch.

"Don't change the subject."

"I dunno, I've ever really been… in like one monogamous relationship." Gwen shook her head, her dark curls knotting from the wind. "And, it was not a very stable one. Neither of us were very good at being, you know, _committed_."

"Wow." Monroe nodded smugly. "_Monogamous_. Big word for you, Gwennie, I'm impressed."

"Oh shut up!" Hip checking him, she beamed. "It's not my fault! I'm naturally tentative!"

"Yeah, I picked up on that when you wouldn't stop painting your damn house."

"No, that's because I'm indecisive." Gwen scoffed, "And it's not my fault the paint store lies to me, Papa Wolf."

"Do not start calling me that."

"Make me _not_ call you that, Papa- ow, damn it!" Gwen jerked backward.

Startled, Monroe grabbed her arms. "What? What's wrong?"

She looked down at her foot. Her face went very pale, then very red. Gwen bowed her head and muttered something.

He frowned. "What?"

"My heel's stuck in the grate," She repeated. Her cheeks were no longer a rosy pink but a harsh, scarlet red.

His eyes fell to her feet. True to her word, Gwen's high heel was stuck in a steam grate. A snicker rose in his throat, coming out in a short giggle. He laughed even harder when she glared at him.

"It's not funny." The woman snapped. "I could be here forever."

Monroe scoffed at her. "Overdramatic much? Geez."

He moved toward her, one arm around her back, bracing it, as his hand went to the back of her knee. She didn't respond to this verbally, just stared at him. _What the hell is he doing_? She wondered. She got her answer when he picked her up.

"_MONROE!_" Gwen yelped, trying to squirm out of his grasp as he pulled at her leg.

The Blutbad rolled his eyes at her. "Calm down."

She smacked the top of his head. "_GET OFF ME!"_

"You want your shoe out?"

"Well, yeah," The witch answered sheepishly. She shifted, trying to push his head away from her crotch area. "But-"

"Than quit squirming and I'll pull it out."

"Hey, Monroe."

And this was how Nick met Gwen. Very slowly, the Blutbad lifted his head. The officer was standing there with a smirk on his face, and a pretty brunette woman on his arm.

After a moment of staring, Monroe popped Gwen's foot out.

"Thanks!" Gwen slapped him on the back and grinned. She rolled her ankle absently. Nodding her approval, she ruffled his hair, immune to his horrified staring(which was still being directed at Nick). "Good boy."

Nick let out a knowing chuckle. His girlfriend shot him an amused, but puzzled glance. He simply looped an arm around her shoulders and stepped closer to the two creatures. "Juliette, this Monroe, a friend of mine."

The woman grinned. "Oh! Nice to finally meet you!"

Monroe gaped at her. "Uh…thanks, you too."

They shook hands. The Blutbad swallowed and pointed to his own brunette.

"This is Gwen. My, uh, I'm- You see we're…"

"We're being lame together," The witch supplied. She shook Juliette's hand. "How are you?"

"Good, yourself?"

"I got Monroe out of the house." Gwen told her, her smile sprightly and cheeks slightly flushed, "I'm awesome!"

Nick looked her over with a curious, somewhat critical eye. "You're Monroe's neighbor, right?"

"Unfortunately."

Monroe's eyes snapped to her. They widened to almost comedic effect. "_Excuse me_? Like I'm the one who-"

"See the abuse I put up with," Gwen replied in an even, calm voice that only made the man look more hysterical. She pointed at the shorter detective. "You're the cop, right?"

"Yeah," Nick rubbed the back of his neck, "I am."

"He didn't tell you about my basement, did he?"

The human shared a look with Juliette. He tilted his head, "No…what's in your basement?"

"_Nothing_!" She replied, a bit too quickly. Her sharp tone and shrinking posture suggested otherwise, but neither said anything. Just shared a look of amusement at her expense.

"Well," Monroe cleared his throat, "We shouldn't keep you. You probably have plans-"

"Not really." Juliette cut in. Her smile was warm and affectionate; happy to be meeting more of Nick's friends. Especially friends outside the force that she may actually have something in common with(or so she hopelessly assumed). "We were just going to see a movie."

"Maybe grab dinner," Her boyfriend added. "You guys care to join us?"

"Uh…"

"Sure!"

Monroe stared down at her. Why did he feel like he had no say in the matter? Surely Nick wouldn't let her boss him-

"Great!"

Goddamn that Grimm bastard. He looked down at Gwen and frowned. She beamed at him, her brown eyes sparkling with glee. He knew she still hadn't made many friends in Portland, but the thought of sharing her with someone, even Nick, bothered him a bit. The idea of these people trying to take her away from him had a growl lingering in the back of his throat.

Gwen wrapped an arm around his waist and stepped closer to the humans. "Come on. It'll be fun. And if it's not I'll make it up to you when we get home."

The odd, intimate phrasing didn't slip by him(nor did it go unnoticed by Nick, who was pretending to listen to Juliette talk about what the movie they were seeing). Monroe chose simply to smirk at her. Her arm looped through his.

The foursome, surprisingly, had a fairly uneventful night. The movie had been a romantic comedy, starring, much to Gwen's distain, Katherine Hiegl.

"Katherine Hiegl's acting makes me want to punch kittens in the face." The brunette stated casually as they took a seat in a fairly empty diner in downtown Portland.

Monroe rolled his eyes. "Dramatic."

"I wish." Gwen ran a hand through her knotted dark hair. She looked to Nick. "Come on, Copper, back me up on this."

"She could definitely take some classes." The human agreed.

Juliette chuckled, "Well, I liked it. Gerard Butler makes everything better."

The witch across from her nodded in agreement but said nothing. They ordered, with the Blutbad and human woman ordering vegetarian meals and the Grimm and witch ordering just the opposite.

Gwen stared at the lettuce on her friend's plate. A strange, sad look crossed her face. Monroe eyed the piece he had on his fork, then her, before asking, "What?"

"Nothing." She turned away, still eyeing the leafy greens from the corner of her eye. Clearing her throat, she asked how Nick knew Monroe.

"Oh, I uh, consulted with him on a few cases." The Grimm answered with a smirk.

Monroe returned it subtly. The women shared a curious glance. It was the witch who voiced their doubt, "I thought you were a clock maker?"

"I am," The Blutbad wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Nick had some evidence that needed to be, uh, looked over."

Gwen seemed to accept this willingly. The other brunette still seemed somewhat skeptical, but Nick eased her worries with a smile. Wanting to keep the conversation going(and off him and Monroe's secret bromance) the detective asked the woman across from him, "So, Monroe says you work in a bakery?"

"Yep, family business."

"Your grandmother's?" Nick pressed. "What's she like?"

The cop let out a grunt as Monroe kicked him under the table. He shot the larger man a glare. It was returned with equal annoyance.

Gwen nodded, oblivious to the lovers' quarrel going on between them. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her wallet. "Uh-huh. She's pretty awesome."

She handed him a small black business card.

"The Gingerbread House?" He read with a smile.

"Oh, that's so cute!" Juliette took the card from him and grinned. It was shiny, with various little brightly coloured dots framing the address. She tilted her head, "Isn't this out in the woods?"

Monroe stiffened slightly as the brunette next to him chuckled. "Yeah. We mostly get business through word of mouth, so tell your friends."

"Any chance we could write this off as a business expense?" The Blutbad asked, holding up his fork.

"Don't push your luck, babe."

**A/N: I'm not a huge fan of this one, but it serves it's purpose. **


	3. St Patrick's Day

**St. Patrick's Day**

"It's gonna be great!"

Monroe rolled his eyes. She was too busy puttering around his work area to notice. He continued with his Pilates as if she wasn't there. So far he was doing a fairly good job of blocking her presence out. Although, admittedly, every so often Gwen would skip past him in those bright green silk stockings and his focus would be thrown.

"I love green beer!" The brunette flipped her hair off her shoulder. She listened to her neighbor continue to work out behind her. It was best she kept her back to him, Gwen reasoned, lest she jumped him right there on that machine. That may put a bit of a strain on their friendship.

"You know it's just regular beer with-"

Gwen spun around to scowl at him. She stormed over and prodded him in the side with her heel. This earned a flinch from him as she shrieked, "Do not ruin the illusion!"

"Ow! Jeez." He glared up at her. "Don't kick me."

The witch crouched down to his level. They both ignored the exposed skin as her already short skirt rode up on her thighs. She wiped some of the sweat from his brow almost tenderly as she chided, "Don't be such a baby. Now come on, we're going out."

"I'm not going anywhere." He told her sternly. Licking his lips, Monroe told her, "Drunken idiots don't mix well with feral instincts."

"Come on!" Gwen shook his shoulder roughly. He let out a grunt as she pleaded. "Please!"

"No."

"Please!"

The Blutbad scoffed at her. "No, Gwen."

"Come on!" She stomped her foot. The woman's face went blank as she warned, "I'll sit on you."

Monroe blinked at her. A smirk tugged at his lips. "Is that a threat or…?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"I'm still not going." He told her at the sight of her smile.

It promptly fell. "But-"

"The answer is _no_, Gwennie."

The witch huffed and stood. "Fine. I'll go out without you. Alone..."

Monroe knew where this was heading. He focused on his exercises and tried to block out her pout. It wasn't going to work. Not this time.

"Maybe I'll even meet a guy…"

He wasn't going give her the satisfaction. He continued on with his regiment, ignoring her wistful words and soft sigh. Gwen stood, flashing him a pair of red lace panties from under her short skirt as she spun away from him.

"Someone who knows how to treat a girl right…"

The Blutbad slid back, away from her as she circled him. He felt a bit self-conscious under her watchful eye, but there was nothing but approval in her gaze. He swallowed. That really didn't help, actually.

"Tall, dark and handsome type, maybe." Realizing her tactic wasn't working, Gwen changed her tune. "Then again, maybe he'll be a short, creepy mouth breather."

Monroe paused. _What the hell?_ He wondered, glancing up at her curiously. This wasn't her usual tactic.

"Maybe he'll follow me home or hell, maybe he won't even bother and just slip something in my drink."

"You'll be fine." Was that doubt in his voice? He wondered, continuing his regiment with a bit more determination.

"Maybe." She crossed her arms, "Or maybe some creep will end up taking advantage of my unconscious body in a darkened alleyway."

So Monroe wound up accompanying her to the bar. It was loud, crowded with obnoxious people and stank of cheap beer, puke and sweat. Just as he knew it would be. He hated it, but Gwen's hand was warm in his own, and she kept looking up at him and grinning for no apparent reason(as she often did when she succeeded in getting him out of the house).

He wrinkled his nose. "You better appreciate how much I don't want to be here."

"I do," Gwen squeezed his hand and hugged him around the waist. "I totally do."

It took less than ten minutes for the witch to gain the attention of another (younger) man. He was perhaps twenty, a bit on the short side, and completely oblivious to the wolf glaring at him. But then, so was Gwen. She sipped at the drink the stranger had brought over absently, her hand not leaving Monroe's knee under the table.

"So…" The man reached over and caressed the fingers that were holding the glass. "What do ya say-"

The witch held her hand up. "I'm gonna stop ya right there, handsome."

"You are?"

"Yes. I am. Look, you're cute, and you bought me a drink. Under normal circumstances, that'd probably earn you a handjob."

Monroe sighed and rubbed his forehead. Why did he have to be here for this? He should've been at home…doing literally anything _but_ this. Instead he was sitting next to his _not_-girlfriend and trying not to lash out at the little prick that was hitting on her. Monroe sized the younger male up. He was a small, wormy fellow. The Blutbad didn't like the smell of him. Too much cologne and anxiety.

Gwen went on, ignoring Monroe's audible scoff. "But I'm with a dude here." Her smile drooped into a suggestive smirk as her eyes settled on her companion, "And a rather good looking one at that."

Monroe's brows rose as she slid off the stood and into his lap. He blinked in surprise at the young man who was gaping at them.

"What?" They echoed simultaneously.

"Sorry, bro." Gwen shrugged and picked up the drink. She raised her glass to her lips, smirking over the rim.

It was then Monroe noticed the smell. Snatching it from her hand, he sniffed at the glass. Red bled into his dark eyes and he bared his teeth at the stranger.

The young man swallowed and went to stand. "I really should be go- _ack_!"

Monroe gripped him tightly by the throat as the witch absently nuzzled against his neck. "_You little shit!"_

The man crawled at the hand. A nervous, terrified giggle rising in his throat as he tried to explain himself. "Hey, man come on, I mean-"

"_Where do you get off drugging my girl?"_ The wolf snarled. His hand tightened around the boy continued to panic.

"I- I didn't know-"

The Blutbad all but threw him across the bar. Gwen watched curiously, spinning a lock of his brown hair between her fingers. Vaguely she wondered what had gotten him so upset. She gently rubbed his shoulder in an attempt to calm him, but her affection only seemed to agitate him further.

"_Go!"_

The stranger didn't need to be told twice. Monroe growled low in his chest and gently pushed the girl from his lap. "Come on," He nodded, "let's get-"

He paused as she trailed her fingers down his jaw.

"Great," Monroe huffed. Just his freakin' luck. He ignored the rising heat under his collar as she started to pet him.

Gwen didn't notice his wariness as she continued to stroke his beard. A seductive smile on her lips, she stood on her tiptoes. It was than he noticed the pink edging around her irises, and he wondered how he had missed that through out the evening. A shudder coursed down his spine as she brushed her lips against his own. A ghost of a touch, barely even there, and he caught her scent.

Arousal. Fear. And the soft taste of booze on her breathe. A groan escaped his throat as she pressed against his solid form, firmer this time, her heated, dark eyes shimmering in the dimness of the bar. Monroe licked his lips, catching her taste again before pulling away. "Come on."

The ride home was…difficult. Gwen's hand continuously found her hair, her mouth his throat and her leg his own as he drove. The feral side of him caused him to pull over several times, wretch himself from her grasp and leave the bug for a few minutes to get a hold of himself.

"Come on, man!" He slapped himself roughly across the face. "She's drunk, she's drugged-"

His eyes drifted over to Gwen, who was watching him curiously from the passenger seat.

"She trusts you." Monroe repeated to himself for the twelfth time. He took a deep, calming breath and got back into the car muttering it to himself like a mantra. "She trusts you."

The second his butt hit the seat, she was glued to his side again. Her arms clutched his, and she buried her face in his neck. "Hi." She giggled.

"Hey," He offered her a strained smile.

"Guess what?"

The Blutbad sighed and shook his head, "What?"

"You're awesome. With the whole, you know, new leaf thing?"

He arched a brow at her, chuckled and said, "Uh…okay. Thanks, I guess."

"I mean, you don't even eat meat." Gwen rested her head on his shoulder and sighed. "I don't think I could even swing that, much less, you know_, turning against everything you've ever known because you've grown a moral compass_, kinda thing."

Monroe blinked at her. He shook off his surprise and looked back out on to the road. "Oh. Thanks."

She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You don't give yourself enough credit."

The rest of the ride home was pretty quiet. Occasionally, he'd have to pry her hand from his crotch, but other than that it was uneventful. When he pulled into his driveway, he became concerned. Gwen was still resting on his shoulder, apparently with no intention of getting up.

"Uh. So. You should probably, you know, go home."

"Or…"

"No." Monroe shook his head firmly. "Not this time, sweetcheeks. You're going home and I'm going to bed."

The woman blinked at him. She took in his serious expression and nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?" He repeated with surprise. He had been expecting a fight. An argument and maybe a few more attempts to get in his pants. He felt almost a little put out.

Gwen seemed to notice it too. A knowing smile hung from her lips as she pressed them to his. A real kiss this time. Not a brush, or a whisper of flesh like the last one, but a real kiss. The warmth of her mouth made his head spin and he dug his nails into his leg to keep himself in control as she moved against him.

The woman was having a similar reaction. The drug in her system put her impulses at the front of her mind. A sigh slipped from her throat at his taste. A radiating heat spilled from his skin that made her tingle in all the right place. The coarse scrape of his beard reminded Gwen of how often she had wanted to grab him by the face and do just this. Her hands rested on his chest and she let out a hum of approval at his touch.

Monroe's hand tangled in her long dark hair and he pulled. A growl rose in his throat as he pulled her into his lap. Gwen smirked at him before dropping her lips back to his. He dug his sharp nails into her hip and bucked his own as she ground against him. He jerked away from her.

"G-Gwen…" His eyes glinted red in the dim light, but the woman paid no mind. Her attention turned to his neck. Nipping and sucking at the skin, she groaned when he pulled her back by the hair.

Panting, she glared at him. Her brown eyes were a bright pink and a wave of guilt flooded him. Monroe swallowed. Leaning back in the seat, he told her, "Goodnight."

Confusion flickered over her sharp features. Then amusement. "You're kidding?"

"I said _goodnight_, Gwen."

Reluctantly, the woman crawled off him. She let out a quiet "_night" _before she got out of the car. He watched her run to her porch. A growl echoed through the car at the sight of her. He could chase her. Hunt her down. Hold her down. Take her. Make her scream.

Monroe slammed his head against the seat rest. The wolf was in a complete frenzy. Her smell was all over his goddamn car now. With a groan, he tried to calm himself. It took several deep breathes, two slaps and a series of fresh rips in his leather seats before he was finally able to get himself in control.

_**The Next Day**_

Monroe knocked on Gwen's backdoor sometime around noon. At first there was nothing. No response. Finally, a halfhearted yell of "_Go away!"_ came through the door.

He took this as an invitation to enter. The kitchen was empty so he followed the sound of the television into a small, cluttered living room. Having never been this far in her house before, Monroe glanced around curiously. The walls were freshly painted a burnt orange, with pink trim. It was hideous, as was her off colored teal furniture. His lips quirked at the sight of Gwen sprawled out on the pull out bed. It, too, was a greenish color with matching sheets and several pillows thrown about it.

"Hey."

Dark circles hung under her eyes as she glared at him. "Don't say it."

"None of this would've happened if you had just let me stay home." He told her smugly as he shuffled over to the bed. Monroe pushed her legs away and asked how she was feeling.

"Shitty." Gwen sat up a bit, her large t-shirt slipping to show him her shoulder. She clutched a pillow to her chest and groaned.

His gaze drifted to a series of dark tattoos on her pale skin, but he didn't mention it. He couldn't make out what they were anyway.

"Yeah, I bet." Monroe chuckled. "Ziegvolk milk'll do that to ya."

The woman rubbed her temple. A scowl on her heart shaped face, she told him, "I fucking hate those goat bastards."

"Guess he forgot Ziegvolk milk only works if the girl's actually attracted to you."

"Guess so."

There was a pregnant lull in the conversation. A _Golden Girls_ rerun was the only thing easing the tension. Monroe opened his mouth to say something –anything- but a ring of the phone interrupted him. She ruffled through the sheets in search for her cell phone.

"Hello? Harris, hey, what's up?" Gwen pressed it to her hear and a smile threatened to split her face. Monroe was instantly jealous. She noticed and gave him a gentle shove. "I'll call you back, okay?"

There was some chatter over the line.

"Okay, love you too. Bye." She hung up and shoved him again. "My baby brother. Harris. I told you about him."

Monroe blushed. "Oh. Right."

Another quiet moment passed between them and she sighed. Slumping back in her bed, she said, "Thanks for not raping me. Chop it up to another thing you're awesome at."

"Yeah, I'm pretty great."

Gwen licked her lips. "You're a good kisser too." She made a check with her finger. "Awesome."

He chuckled and scratched his beard. "Thanks. You too."

"Any chance of an encore of last night's performance?" The witch asked with a smirk.

"Gwen-"

"It's cool." She ignored the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks. "I get it."

"It's not that I don't, you know…"

Gwen shrugged, "I get it. I'm not your type or you don't want to risk my safety or something equally as noble and annoying."

A twinge of shame made his heart sink. He did like Gwen. But she had said it herself. She wasn't a Blutbad. He could seriously hurt her. Kill her even, if he lost control. "I just think it's best-"

"We stay friends," She finished, a watered down smile on her full lips. "I _get_ it." Her hands fell to his shoulder. "It's okay."

"It is?" He asked. Some part of him had been hoping she would put up a fight. Maybe she wasn't as attracted to him as he had thought…maybe the Ziegvolk milk had just amplified it to the point where…Monroe looked away from her.

Gwen shrugged, falling back her bed. Her head was pounding. Why did they have to have this conversation now? Couldn't they wait until the effects wore off? When she would be in the mood to woo him? Instead, she told him, "Yeah, of course."

"Oh." Monroe swallowed and stood. "I should get going…clocks to fix, Pilates to do."

The witch smirked at him. "Got'cha. I'm gonna sit here and vegetate until I can start to care about all the embarrassing things I did last night."

"You weren't that bad…"

"Did I or did I not sit in your lap not once, but twice?"

He blushed.

"Thought so."


	4. Easter Day One

**Easter: Day One**

"There's something very fucked up about watching you eat marshmallow peeps," Gwen told him as she licked the gooey filling out of a Cadbury egg. "Just a little too ironic for me."

Monroe ignored her, just like he had been for the past fifteen minutes. There was something rather obscene about the way she was going at her portion of their candy. He snuck a glance at her out of the corner of his eye just in time to catch her licking the white sugary goo off one of her fingers.

The Blutbad jumped to his feet. She cocked a brow at him, but said nothing as he made his way over to his kitchen. He opened the fridge, pulled out a beer and drained it in one chug. Panting, he called over his shoulder, "Any plans for the weekend?"

"Goin' out."

Monroe blinked. "Oh?" The unsaid question was of course: _why aren't you inviting me?_

"Yep." The brunette took a bite of the thick chocolate shell.

"You gonna tell me where to?"

Gwen paused, not really wanting to answer. Weighing her options(telling him and face his wrath or not telling him and have him pry until they got into a fight) she went on chewing casually as she told him, "First orgy of the spring."

The Blutbad really wished he pulled out that second bottle of beer. He choked on it, sputtering and gagging as he gripped the counter.

Gwen watched from the couch with a smirk. "I wasn't going to mention it."

"Then wh-" He wiped his mouth and swallowed hard. "Why did you?"

"You asked!" The witch shot back defensively. "Last time I refused to tell you something you went through my garbage!"

"You were being shady and I was concerned!" Monroe glared at her. "You're not seriously going to an orgy, are you?"

Her brow crinkled in confusion, "Of course I am." She shrugged, "Why wouldn't I?"

His eyes widened and he let out an obnoxious, condescending chuckle. "Because it's-"

"Oh don't even," She snapped at him. Surprised by the authority in her voice, the wolf gawked as she went on, "You lost the right to be petty and jealous when we agreed to keep things casual."

His hand tightened around the neck of the bottle. It cracked. Envy bubbled in his chest, but he didn't address it. Instead, he bared his teeth and growled, "Fine. Go get all the strange tail you want, see if I care."

Gwen shrugged and stood. Her stance agressive, she sneered, "Fine I will."

"Fine!" He snapped at her.

"Fine!" She made her way to the back door and paused. Her dark eyes flickered over his face. Monroe wasn't entirely sure what she was waiting for. So he just glared at her.

"What?" He asked surly.

"Idiot." She let out a scoff and left, slamming the door as she did so.

The man watched her go, his hard features mellowing as she disappeared from sight. He set the beer down on the counter. The idea of Gwen dating displeased him. The idea of Gwen getting plowed by six guys at once almost put him in catatonic shock. Sick to his stomach, Monroe tried to push that thought to the back of his mind as he set out to do an extensive Pilates regiment.

When Nick stopped by later that night, Monroe could hardly keep himself from lashing out at the man. Every nerve was on edge. Gwen had gone out some time earlier. _Out to her orgy._ She would come back, reeking of men and sex and he'd have to lock himself in his basement to keep from going over there and showing her what she was missing.

Nick, who was unused to seeing the clock maker so hostile, sipped at his tea and remain as still as possible. Last time he had moved too suddenly and the Bluebad had actually snapped at him. Literally. With his teeth. So he contented himself to smirk knowingly and watch as Monroe glared out the back window, crouched low and unyielding. Nick was certain he could actually hear the growl itched at the back of his friend's throat.

"…An orgy, huh?"

The Blutbad snarled at the word. "Yes. The little _hure_."

"Dude." Nick frowned at him. He wasn't entirely sure what the word meant, but the venom dripping off it gave him a clue. "It's Gwen. I thought you two were all_; we're just friends, mixed breeding is bad, she's not that hot anyway_-"

"Shut up." The wolf snapped at him. Hackles raised, he went on, "Just because I don't want her doesn't mean anyone else can have her."

The detective snickered. "Judging by the way you're acting I think it's safe to say you want her."

Monroe ignored him. Nick went to stand, but the Blutbad whipped around, fangs bared. Nick sat back down. Monroe went back to glaring out the window.

**Part one of four!**


	5. Easter Day Two

**Easter Day 2**

When Nick awoke the next morning, he was still at the table and Monroe was still at the window. Sunlight poured through it, showing off the dark circles under the Blutbad's red-tinted eyes. He was still in stealth mode, crouched low as he peered out the window.

"Seriously?" Nick croaked, sitting up. The detective rubbed his stiff neck. "Are you seriously doing this to me right now?"

Worry laced Monroe's tone as he told him, "She's not home yet."

"Well, maybe she went home with a friend." He offered. "I mean, isn't that kind of the point? To go home with a bunch of strangers?"

"Or maybe they've got her locked up in some kind of magic proof cage and they're going to pimp her out to every Wessen in the area."

"Yeah, because, that's completely plausible." The man stood. Stretching his arms above his head, he cracked his back. "Look. I'm gonna go home. Juliette's probably freaking out right about now."

"Yeah, wh- she's back!"

Like a puppy eagerly awaiting its owner's return, Monroe darted out the backdoor. Nick just gaped after him. How had he gone to so utterly terrifying to an oversized lap dog? He ran after the Blutbad, just as the drama started.

"-_Geruch wie ein Brodell!"_ The wolf snapped at her, sniffing and huffing at her disheveled state.

Just as he had expected, the witch reeked of candles and sweat. The stench of her previous night's partners clung to her like a second skin and he flashed his wolf at her in warning. Snapping his jaws at her he grabbed her by the chin and brought her face to his. "_Meins!"_

Gwen could only gape at him. He was practically lifting her off the ground. She had no idea just what slander was being directed at her, but she refused to take it lying down. Thrashing out of his hold, she shoved him hard in the chest. Her eyes bled into black as she snapped, "Get offa me!"

"Hey!" The detective grabbed Monroe by the back of the shirt and pulled him away from the angry girl. He pushed him toward the house. "Get back in there before one of your neighbors call the cops!"

The Blutbad let out a feral growl before shifting back to his human features. The pain was more evident there. A combination of sadness and rage that neither had ever seen on him before. Monroe licked his lips and looked away from them.

Gwen's stomach dropped. She hadn't wanted to _hurt_ him with her plans. She had just wanted to annoy him. Get a little attention. Get him a little jealous- not completely throw him off his game. Her lips parted to apologize as she reached out to him.

Monroe wretched away from her touch and stormed back into the house. She winced as the door slammed.

Nick groaned. His whole body slumped as he told her, "I left my keys in there."

"He's really mad, huh?" Gwen crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well you _did_ go to an orgy." He pointed out. "I mean, you couldn't have _not_ seen this coming."

The woman shot him a look that suggested he wasn't helping. "He said nothing was ever gonna happen between us. I had every right to get laid."

Nick nodded and scratched the stubble on his chin. "Yeah. I know. But- he likes you."

"Well, he should've said that yesterday." She remembered how foolish she had felt in his kitchen, waiting for him to make a move. Her black eyes returned to brown. "He had every chance to."

Nick sighed. "I really, really don't want to go in there." His bright eyes slipped to her downtrodden features. "Can you give me a ride home?"

"Do you think Juliette would really appreciate me driving you home? In the same clothes you had on the night before?"

"Good point."

Gwen slapped him on the back. "Come on, Romeo, let's call you a cab."

Inside his house, Monroe was a complete wreck. He dropped down onto his couch, trying desperately to rid the scent of her partners from his nose. What started as a growl turned into a whimper as he curled himself into a ball. He cursed ever getting attached to her in the first place. For letting her charm him with her smiles and compliments. _Fucking witches_. They were an untrustworthy lot. He should've known better. His stomach churned at the thought of being rejected by someone he'd grown so close to. It wasn't so long ago she had been completely ready to crawl into bed with him.

Vaguely, he wondered if he had made the mistake of not taking her up on her offer. Monroe quickly shook that thought away. No. She had been drunk. Drunk and _drugged_. She was no where near as interested in him as she had let on that night. Gwen had been so quick to put aside her feelings for him- but then, he had been quick to do that same.

He recalled her taste and closed his eyes. Sleep was almost instantaneous, the previous night's stake out catching up with him in a flash.

The sun had set and the moon was high when Gwen made her way over to Monroe's back door. A basket of goodies on her hip, she sighed and raised her hand to knock. When there was no answer, she huffed and knocked again. She knew he was home. The Bug was out front and she'd been watching his house all day, only taking time a few hours prior to go help out her grandmother.

"Come on, Monroe!" She called out, knocking harder. "I know you're there!"

Still no response. With a roll of her eyes, the witch invited herself in. Big mistake.

The air inside the house was completely still. Unnerved, Gwen called out again. She received no response. Swallowing, the brunette closed the door behind her.

"Monroe?" Absently, she dropped the basket down on his counter before continuing further into his kitchen. "Come out, come out wherever you are…"

A shriek was torn from her throat as she was knocked to the floor. A strong hand grasped her throat and Gwen choked as a pair of red eyes bored down into her own. As gently as she could, the witch put her hand on the Blutbad's forearm. A warmth spread through his arm at her touch. Monroe's dark eyes went to where they were connected. Lines of black connected her pale fingertips to his olive skin. He tilted his head at the smell of burning flesh and as the pain resonated, he wretched away from her. The man jumped to his feet. Clutching his wounded arm to his side, he bared his teeth at her.

"You shouldn't be here."

Gwen rubbed her throat. A bruise was already beginning to form there. The man could see it, but didn't comment. His gaze dropped to his arm, the pain already subsided. He licked his lips and looked away, huffing.

"I…" She swallowed and stood. "I wanted to see you."

"Why?"

"Because we're friends?" Gwen asked with an eye roll.

Monroe frowned.

A bit more skeptically, she asked, "We _are_ still friends, right?"

When he didn't say anything, the petite brunette stepped closer. He backed up. It continued this way until he was pressed against the counter. Even with their hips touching he couldn't look at her.

"Monroe, please? I didn't mean to-"

'To what?" He snapped at her. "Make a whore of yourself? It's none of my bu-"

His sarcasm died as her lips caught his. He sighed and Gwen took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Her tongue stroked his, trying to coax him forward as his hands grasped her hips. Digging his nails into the rough denim of her jeans, Monroe pushed her away.

"Don't." He moaned.

"Oh shut up, we both want this."

That was enough for him to spin around and pin her to the counter. With a devious grin, he ran his hands up her sides. She smiled back, moving to kiss him again, but he moved out of reach. A puzzled brow raised, she opened her mouth to speak when Monroe curled a lock of her hair around his finger. Reeling her in with it, he placed a soft kiss on her lips.

She blinked up at him as he pulled away. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"You talk too much." He moved his lips down to her neck. This earned a wistful sigh from her as his beard tickled her sensitive skin. Going on, Monroe's fingers found the button of her jeans. "And fuck too many strangers."

Gwen giggled and ground her hips against his. Startled, he let out a grunt as she sunk her teeth into the pulse of his neck. Monroe growled as she licked the tender area, pressing against him.

**A/N: Monroe should speak German all the time.**


	6. Easter Day Three

_**Easter Day Three**_

Monroe woke up on the cool tiled floor of his kitchen completely naked. His eyes fluttered open as sunlight poured in from the window. Gwen was still sound asleep next to him. Scratches, bites and bruises littered her pale skin. He trailed a finger along one of the welts, an apologetic whimper in the back of his throat as he nuzzled the back of her neck.

The woman rolled over, a lazy smile on her lips. "Hey."

"Hi." Monroe cleared his throat and kept his eyes trained on her face as best he could. She brushed her nails over his beard. An approval growl rose in his chest as he leaned into her touch. His eyes fluttered closed and he pulled her closer until her bare back was flush against him.

Gwen's head lulled against his own as the coarse fur on his cheeks brushed along the sensitive skin of her neck. Monroe _felt_ the giggle before he actually heard it. A smile curved his lips as he asked her what was funny.

"I see you got over your little jealous fit."

"I see you weren't satisfied by your orgy," He shot back.

She shrugged weakly. Gwen leaned into his touch as he traced his nails along her bruised side. "Orgies are really more about…recharging our batteries than sexual gratification."

His brows rose. "Oh?"

"Mhm."

He sat up at bit. Once again, he resisted the urge to take in more than just her face. It didn't help that she had no such restraint. Gwen's fingers caressed from collar to collar before moving down his chest. Monroe shuddered at the gentleness, but didn't comment on it. Instead, he said, "So…does that mean you'll be going to more of them?"

"Probably." The woman admitted.

He pulled away from her, letting out a sullen, "Oh."

"It's nothing personal."

"Was…was this something personal?" Monroe tilted his head down at her as she sat up.

Soon they were eye to eye. She took in his tight, worried features and sighed. "Monroe."

"Is that a no?"

"It's an _I don't know yet_. I mean, I like you, but…you're a Blutbad." She smiled teasingly at him. "You might eat our young."

"Hey! Why is that always the first place you go?"

Gwen giggled. Pressing her brow to his, she kissed his lips. The man pressed back, deepening it and lowering her back to the floor. His fingers ran through her long dark hair as she slipped him the tongue.

It was then the front door was thrown open and Nick barged in.

The couple didn't notice.

"Mon-_wow_." He ran through the living room into the kitchen where the still completely nude pair lay. Gaping at them he hollered, "_WE EAT HERE!"_

Monroe waved him away, growling, "Go!" before he returned his hand to her hip. Gwen giggled, licking and sucking on his neck. She nipped at his jaw.

"_WHY ARE YOU NOT DOING THIS IN A BEDROOM?"_

"Why are you still standing there?" Monroe shot back with a scowl. A shudder coursed down his spine as the woman trailed her teeth over his Adam's apple. He looked down at Gwen accusingly. "And why are you being so calm about this?"

"I've had sex in front of people lots of times," She shrugged, "Admittedly, not in front of law enforcement, but-"

"Okay." Monroe hushed her. She continued to grin at him as he turned back to Nick.

Nick, who now had his face firmly pressed against the doorway, with hands covering his eyes. Nick who was never going to enter without knocking ever again. Nick who was never going to look Gwen in the face ever again. Nick who-

"_Nick!"_ The couple chorused once again. For the third time.

The Grimm dared a glance over at them to find that Monroe had tugged on a pair of boxers and Gwen a shirt and panties. Nick heaved a sigh of relief. For a moment, all he could do was shake his head at them. Finally, a disbelieving, "How?"

"My penis, her vagina," Monroe told him casually, making a lewd hand gesture. Gwen slapped his arm and leaned into his side.

"What are you two like dating now?" The cop asked bewildered. It then occurred to him that they were pretty much acting like they did before they had sex. He frowned. "Or not? Just like normal?"

"Wanna draw me a map to go with that sentence, there, officer?" Monroe rolled his eyes and made his way over to the coffee machine. "And no, we're not just like normal."

"So you _are_ dating?"

Gwen pulled on her jeans. "No. He eats babies. I can't date a baby eater, my grandmother would destroy me." She paused. "No. She wouldn't kill me. My father would kill me. Then my brother. Then my h-"

"I get it." Monroe snapped at her. He opened the fridge with a little too much force.

"My, my, what big ears you have." The woman teased. "And what a big-"

"Okay!" Nick shrieked, throwing his hands up. "I just came for my wallet! I don't want to hear or see or-"

"Nick." Monroe rolled his eyes as he took out the cream. "Breathe. It's just sex. Be a big boy and calm yourself, alright?"

Gwen giggled and hopped up on the counter. Her ribs creaked in protest, sending sharp pains down her sides, but she ignored them. Crossing her legs, she grinned impishly at the men. The Blutbad ignored her, scuttling around her distracting gaze to find some cups.

"I should…get my wallet. Monroe?" Nick looked away from the witch, "Can I talk to you? In the living room?"

"It's cool, I get it." Gwen hopped off the counter, "I should run home anyway. Enjoy your guy talk, fellas."

With that the brunette woman departed.

Monroe peered through the window and waited until she was out of his yard before he snapped, "What the hell is it with you people and barging into my damn house?"

Nick opened his mouth to respond, but was promptly and effectively shushed.

"No! Really! I want to know! Is there like some kind of invisible sign that just screams, _oh yeah, come on, he won't mind!_ or something!"

"Uh… no."

Considerably, calmer, the Blutbad replied, "I didn't think so." He crossed by the man to the living room. "You said you left your wallet?"

"Yeah, it's…so, you and Gwen?"

"Shut up, Nick."

"Right, well…I won't keep you…from whatever the hell I walked in on." Nick snatched his wallet off the kitchen table and followed the Blutbad back to the den. He smirked at his friend.

"What?"

Nick shrugged, "Nothing. I'm happy for you, man."

"It's just sex!"

"Uh-huh. What're you gonna do after I leave?" The Grimm asked knowingly.

"Go over to- oh, shut _up_!"

Snickering, Nick left. He didn't even flinch when Monroe slammed the door on his coat tails. He waved to Gwen who was visible in the window of her home, but got no response. It was then he noticed a phone pressed tightly to her ear. Shrugging it off, Nick made his way to his car as Monroe made his way out his backdoor.

He didn't bother knocking and just let himself into Gwen's house. It wasn't until he was actually inside that he felt like a hypocrite. Shrugging it off, he perked a brow at the sound of her voice.

"-a good idea, I mean, you're what? Twice her age?" A pause. "I know you don't need my permission! I'm just-" Another pause. A huff.

Monroe stepped into the doorway, eying the distressed brunette curiously.

"I just don't want you to rush into things!" She waved to the Blutbad and motioned for him to take a seat. "Don't talk to me like I'm a child! No, you-ugh!"

Gwen threw the cell phone against the wall with all her might. It bounced off it and clattered to the floor as she fell back onto the pull out bed where Monroe sat.

"What's up?" He asked, brushing some of her dark hair from her flushed face.

"My dad wants to marry some girl." She frowned. "I don't give a shit he wants to get married, he's been married like twelve times, but she's _mortal_."

"Oh?" Monroe pulled her head into his lap.

She sighed, enjoying the feel of his fingers as they ran through her hair. "Mhm." Her eyes fluttered closed. "That's really nice."

A smile tugged at his lips. "Nice to know I'm good for something."

Her eyes opened and she peered up at him with a pensive glint in them. She sat up slightly, pressing her ear to his bare chest. A few scars littered the warm skin. The steady thumping was a comforting sound and she inhaled his scent.

A bit awkwardly, he brushed her hair back from her shoulders. "Uh…Gwen?"

"Yeah?"

"You alright?"

A nod. She cleared her throat and pulled away. _Hypocrite_, she thought to herself, a frown lining her full lips. "It's not that I don't want him to be happy…but, they're so fragile."

Monroe cocked a brow. "And you're not?"

"You have no idea what I can take, wolf boy," She grinned devilishly and pushed him back on the bed. A quick shift of her hips and Gwen was straddling him. "Than again, maybe you do."

A chuckle rose in his throat as her hands found his shoulders. "Seriously? Don't you have an off switch?"

"Maybe," She rocked playfully. "You wanna help me find it?"

Instead of a verbal answer, Monroe pulled off her shirt.

**A/N: Everyone's a hypocrite at Easter. Also, one chapter of this little blurb left before I move on to Mother's Day.**


	7. Easter Day Four

**Easter Day Four**

After a night of inappropriate uses of sugary Easter candy, Twilight Zone reruns and a surprising lack of penetrative sex, Gwen began her typical holiday tradition; begging Monroe to leave the house with her.

"Come on!" She squeezed his bare leg as she batted her lashes at him from her resting place on his stomach. "It'll be fun!"

"I'm not fucking you in a movie theatre." Monroe sighed, raking his fingers through her dark hair gently.

"I never said you had to fuck me there."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm still not going."

The woman chuckled and sat up. "Please?"

"No." He twitched as Gwen leaned down and softly bit his nipple.

"Please?" She repeated, smirking against his skin.

"D-ah…" Monroe sighed as she moved up his chest. "No. Damn it, Gwen-"

"You talk too much," She teased, nibbling at the apex of his neck and shoulder. "Besides, we both know how this is gonna go, handsome."

The Blutbad let out a less than amused groan as she traced her nails up the inside of his thigh to his groin. Arching his back subtly, he taunted back, "Oh yeah? How's it gonna go?"

"Well, first I'm going to do this," Gwen wrapped her fingers around his length and gave it a soft pump. Just enough to get his attention and earn a frustrated growl when she let him go. She then hopped off the pull out bed, completely naked and smirked at his affront look. "Then I'm going to blue ball you until you do what I want."

"That's not fair!"

"That's the benefit of being female." Gwen corrected. Grinning at him, she cooed at his crestfallen features. "Don't be mad. We're going to a sex shop."

Considerably more interested in leaving the house, Monroe sat up. He tugged on his boxers and followed her to the bathroom. He smirked at her as she brushed her teeth.

She cocked a brow at him. "What?"

"Nothing."

Gwen squinted at him then spit in the sink. Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, the woman brushed past him with a roll of her eyes. "Don't be such a freak, babe."

Monroe stayed there a minute, just staring into her empty bathroom. He muttered, just loud enough to be heard, "I'm not the one with the bondage fetish."

"Hey!" The brunette whirled around. She put her hands on her hips and frowned at him as he eyed her naked body appreciatively. It was really hard to be mad at him when he was doing that, Gwen noted. "You weren't complaining last night!"

"I'm not complaining _now_," He assured her as he approached. Peering down at her, he slipped his arms around her waist. Her glare softened slightly when he nuzzled his scruffy cheek against her smooth one. With a lazy smile, he licked her cheek.

Gwen made the conscious decision not to be weirded out by that and made a note to start DVR-ing _The Dog Whisperer_. "So…sex shop?"

The Blutbad nodded. "Let me get my pants."

"Meet back here in twenty?"

Monroe nodded and made his way out of Gwen's home. The sun was just starting to set and he wondered how long they'd been going at it. He glanced back at her house with a smirk. By comparison, his own was considerably more interesting. Packed with knickknacks and various treasures from his life. Gwen's was…sparse, to say the least. The only personal touch she had added to the place outside of the odd, off putting furniture was the odd, off putting paint on the walls.

He changed quickly; throwing on a flannel shirt and some slacks, ran a brush through his hair and teeth and put on deodorant. He paused, hand hovering over a bottle of cologne. His sensitive nose crinkled at the thought of wearing it(it had been a gift from a customer- he wasn't even sure why he kept it) and ultimately decided against it. He had never smelt anything artificial on Gwen, with the exception of perhaps lightly scented body lotion or shampoo, so the Blutbad assumed she wouldn't mind.

When Monroe made it over to her house, she was waiting for him in the living room. Dressed in a pink tube top that was completely inappropriate for the time of year and a pain of sinfully tight jeans, the woman beamed warmly at his arrival.

For not the first time, he questioned his relationship with her. Little Miss _Only-Ever-Had-One-Serious-Relationship_ had become a staple in his life. A constant. A friend, companion and now…perhaps even a lover. In all honesty, he isn't entirely sure how to feel about that.

"So, Bug or Baby?" She asked.

"Don't care." Monroe shrugged.

A grin lit up the witches features. "Baby it is!"

"I thought only men named their cars?"

"I thought only women arched their backs when they came." She shot back with a devilish grin.

His dark eyes stared at her a long moment before he told her, "I hate you."

A giggle slipped out of her as Gwen pressed a kiss to his throat. "Don't be such a putz. You know you're getting laid."

"Hm."

He followed her out of the house. As she locked the door he inspected her black 1977 corvette. It was a beautiful car. Not as awesome as his Bug, at least not in his mind, but still, a nice ride.

"How'd you end up with Baby anyway?"

Gwen shrugged, "I bought him."

"Like, used?"

"What's with all the questions?" She shot at him. A curious brow perked at him.

He knew he would get no more answers from her, so he just slipped his hand in hers. Monroe tried not to marvel at the size difference of their fingers and asked what exactly she planned on doing to him.

Gwen pursed her lips and tapped her chin, as if in deep thought. Her belly ring glinted in the bright April sunlight. She pretended not to notice when the wolf stared blatantly at it. Instead, she answered his question. "Haven't decided yet."

Monroe felt his blood run slightly cold at that. That shouldn't have been one of the most horrifying things he's ever heard, but for some reason it is, and he found himself somewhat unnerved by her devilish grin and glinting black eyes. No, just a trick of the light.

Gwen stared at him. Unsure of his silence, she gave him a shove with her shoulder, "You okay, Papa Wolf?"

That snapped him out of it. He glared at her. "Don't call me that."

"Don't space out on me." The woman replied.

He let out a huff and began down the steps, pulling her along with him.

The sex shop was closed. Gwen was devastated. Monroe was mildly amused by her outraged reaction, but stopped laughing once she picked up a rock and hucked it through the store front's window. For a few stunned seconds, he was silence as he looked around. No one had noticed.

"Gwen, what the hell?" He whispered at her, following her through the busted picture window. Knocking over a lingerie-clad mannequin, he reached out for the woman as she slipped down an isle. "Gwen!"

"Oh, calm your tits, dogboy." The brunette rolled her eyes at him. "It's not like this place has got surveillance cameras and trip wires."

Exasperated, he hopped out of the display. "We shouldn't be here."

"They shouldn't be closed so early!" Gwen retorted with a frown. "Don't be such a girl, I'll just be a second. Watch the door."

With an annoyed scowl, Monroe did as he was told. Sticking his nose out the window, he smelt for anyone coming, but the street was deserted. He snuck a glance back at her to find her pensively sorting through the store's various condom choices.

"Are you kidding me right now?"

"I'm all out," Gwen held up two packages, "Which do you think would be better? Vibrating or heat activated?"

A fierce blush crossed his cheeks. "I don't know! Just pick one!"

"They have-"

Sirens in the distance.

"Gwen…" He warned; it was clear he was trying with all his might to remain calm. "Just pick something."

With an aloof shrug, the witch grabbed a discarded back and threw a couple things into it before pulling out her wallet. Monroe watched, slack jawed as she counted out roughly forty dollars and set it on the counter.

"Are you kidding me?"

She glanced at him. "What?"

"Can we go now?" The Blutbad asked. He did this instead of grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking the shit out of her like he so desperately wanted to.

With a grin, the woman nodded and took his hand. After all but lifting her out the window, the couple ran back to the corvette. Gwen tossed him the keys. He fumbled with them a moment before finally finding the correct one and sticking it in the ignition.

"I cannot believe you did that." He told her as he checked the rear view mirror for the fifteenth time. They were taking the long way home, the back way, just in case. The only thing he could see behind them was trees. No houses. No street signs. Not even any street lamps. Monroe heaved a quiet sigh of relief.

"Uh-huh." Gwen rolled her eyes and began rooting through the bag.

"Do you have any idea how reckless that was? I mean, Christ, Gwen, what if we'd been caught? How do you explain that kind of thing?" In a mocking, sarcastic tone, he mimed, "_Oh no, officer. You don't understand. We were out of condoms_."

The woman blinked at him. "Well, yeah, actually that's how I would explain it. Besides, it wasn't stealing. I even left money to cover the tax."

"And the window?" Monroe shot back with a deep frown.

"Insurance will cover that." She went back to her bag. "You worry too much."

"You don't worry enough. Jeez. And here I was thinking you were a nice, wholesome girl."

"Nicest you'll ever meet," She replied coolly. With a triumphant grin, she pulled out a small packet and ripped it open with her teeth.

The artificial scent of 'green apple' hit his nose and he looked over at her just in time to catch her slipping it in her mouth. Monroe cocked a brow at her as she shot him a wink and reached over to under do his belt.

"Are you kidding me? Now?"

She ignored him, unzipping his pants quickly and pulling him from his slacks. The Blutbad lifted his hips as she wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock. Letting his foot slide off the gas pedal, Monroe moaned as Gwen rolled the condom down to the base.

"Do you have to do this now?" He breathed, trying to keep his tone firm. "Can't you at least wait 'til I'm done scalding you?"

The corvette slowly rolled to a stop. Monroe felt her laugh at him, the vibrations in her throat making his dick twitch encouragingly. One of his hands tangled in her hair as the other absently turned the car off.

"That's cheating…" A gasp slipped from his lips, followed closely by her name as she began to suck in earnest.

It had turned out to be a pretty good Easter after all.

**A/N: Last of the Easter saga. On to mother's day! **


	8. Mother's Day

**Mother's Day**

Monroe watched Gwen as she paced anxiously in front of the bed. He had never seen her quite so…frazzled. "Dude, it's just a lunch date."

"_Dude_," She mocked, shooting him a glare over her shoulder, "This chick just wants to be my new mommy."

A smile quirked at his mouth. "She didn't say that over the phone, did she?"

"It was implied."

"Just, stop pacing, okay? You're making me nervous."

"Yeah, the big bad Grimm under the bed might hear us."

Monroe felt his chest tighten and a familiar voice in the back of his mind shout for him to tell her about Nick. He ignored it. A weak smirk took the place of his smile. Gwen didn't notice; she had already turned back to her closet. It was literally filled to the brim with clothes.

Strange clothes. Clothes that on more than one occasion had required extensive questioning on Monroe's part. Including a skin tight blue leotard; completely bejeweled with rhinestones and swirls of bright green. That had gotten a rather lengthy stare from him. She never gave him a direct answer though. Just a knowing smile.

He fucking hated that smile. Monroe flinched as she tossed something frilly on to the bed, the coat hanger nearly taking his eye out. "Shouldn't you be doing this with, I don't know, a woman? Or overly effeminate man?"

"That's what you're here for," Gwen shot back. She didn't even bother to turn around to face his indignant sneer. "Besides, the only women I know are my grandmother and Juliette."

"So call Juliette."

The woman scoffed at him. "Yeah, right."

"What? I thought you liked Juliette."

"I've met her four times! I'm not letting her in my house."

Monroe tilted his head curiously. "You let me in your house."

"That's different! You're…you're, you know." She motioned with her hand. "One of us."

"You make Wessen sound like a cult."

She chuckled and went back to her closet. "Yeah, well, I'm still not ready to let her in here."

"You let Nick in here."

"He's your friend."

An unexpected warmth spread through his chest and the Blutbad slipped off the bed. He looped his arms around her waist and peered into her closet with her. It had been a casual response. He and Gwen had made a pact to keep things friendly. Things were _incredibly_ friendly between them. He nuzzled against her neck.

Gwen did her best to ignore him, but her eyes fluttered closed regardless. Her hand found the back of his neck as she chided weakly, "I'm supposed to be getting ready…"

"I'll get you ready all right…"

"Lame," She snickered as his scruff brushed against her cheek. A breathy sigh of contentment escaped her throat. "That was really lame."

The man grinned and groped absently into her closet. "Here, wear this. Now, let's get you undressed."

"I don't think my dad would appreciate me showing up in a patent leather mini dress."

"I would." He licked her neck and slipped his hands under her pajama shirt.

"You're not coming."

Monroe pulled back in surprise. "I'm not?"

"Hell no!" Gwen spun around. "This chick could be totally batshit! I'm not subjecting you to that! Besides," she glared at him. "I don't need you being the husky voice of reason in my ear the whole time."

"So you think I'm distracting?" He asked with a frown. He brushed off his hurt when he realized she had, not for the first time, spoke without thinking. There had been no spite or annoyance in her voice. Closer to worry.

She went back to the closet and pulled out a long sleeve black dress that would hit her knees. He cocked a brow at it and made a rather inappropriate funeral joke. She shrugged it off. Stripping out of her pjs, the woman stepped into the dress. It was backless, the Blutbad noted happily and trailed his fingers along the tattoos that ran along her spine. A shudder coursed up it and a grin lit up her tense features.

"Babe, I gotta go."

"Now?" Monroe whined. He bent his knees and lifted her up off the ground. "Can't you be late?"

"No. My dad would think it was disrespectful," The woman made a disapproving sound. He set her down with a sigh. Gwen grabbed her purse off the dresser. "I'll be back soon." _But not soon enough_, her mind added as she kissed him on the cheek. "Make yourself at home."

Monroe took that as permission to snoop through her house. He listened for her to lock the front door(he briefly wondered if she was locking him in or if she was just being cautious- there had been a string of robberies in the area lately) then began opening her dresser drawers.

Underwear. Socks. Sex toys. Unsurprising boring things. When he went to cover them back up, a glimmer of metal caught his eye. Tilting his head, he pulled out the chain that had been tucked away in the corner. It was about eighteen inches long, a skeleton key dangling on the end of it. A thumb ran over the smooth iron as he began looking around the room. There wasn't any chest to go with it and the Blutbad found himself intrigued.

Monroe stood, his eyes shifting to the closet. It was still wide open…he pushed some of the clothes aside and pressed an ear to the wall behind them. Curiously, he raised a hand and knocked on it.

Hollow. He pulled back, only to step further into the closet a second later, his fingers searching the thin board that separated Gwen's room from... whatever was back there. After a few moments, his fingers brushed a keyhole.

Meanwhile, in a well lit restaurant across town, a witch was sitting across from a Fuchsbau. The women regarded one another in silence, distrust clear in their watchful eyes.

"Horace tells me you've been under his watch sometime."

Gwen's sharp gaze didn't waver. "Hm."

The blonde straightened. "Have I done something to offend you?"

"No." The witch admitted, a grim smile on her lips. "Not yet."

Jennifer Quinn was a woman approximately forty five; beautiful with long hair and blue eyes. Gwen could see why her father would be attracted. She took a sip of her wine absently.

"What do you want with my father?"

"I want to marry him," Jennifer told her bluntly. She had been informed by her fiancé that honesty was the best route to go with his daughter, although every instinct in her body was crying out for the woman to do just the opposite. To butter her up with lies and innocent gestures. The Fuchsbau reached for her own glass as the brunette spoke.

"Well, I assumed. But what would someone…" Gwen swept her gaze over the woman with a hint of judgment in her eyes. "Like _you_ want with someone like him?"

Jennifer flushed with annoyance. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"It means your breed isn't exactly known for being the loyal type. Nor is it a long lasting one." Gwen pursed her lips. It wasn't like her to be so harsh. Over the years, many of her father's flames had sought her out. It had left her a little bitter having to sort out another. "Why would you want to be with someone who will out live you? Why would you want to be with anyone like my father?"

The blonde's pinked cheeked fumed to a harsh red; not with embarrassment, but with anger. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"It means my father may be a charming man, but he has nothing to offer you. No home, no livelihood. Just a lifetime of wandering. Until you die."

"There's more to life than-"

Gwen raised a hand. Jennifer silenced, but continued to glare. "I just meant that most women grow tired of his lifestyle quickly." The brunette paused, an amused smirk on her lips, "You are aware of his…history with divorce?"

"I am."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"You said yourself there's nothing I could take from him," The blonde growled. "Why are you so concerned about my lineage if there nothing I can take from him?"

A satisfied smirk rose on the woman's full lips. Frankly, it unnerved the witch across from her. Jennifer's smile turned predatory as she changed tactics. "I realize how odd this all must be…most marriages are arranged in _Dewiniaeth_ society, aren't they?"

"Yes…" Gwen cringed at the mangled Welsh word. As if it wasn't bad enough to have an outsider saying such intimate things about her kind. She could at least try to get the accent right.

"So it must be strange, two adults making a decision for themselves." Jennifer leaned back in her seat, enjoying the way the girl bristled.

"I'd watch your mouth before you go bad mouthing my culture, butain." The brunette's eyes flashed threateningly. "You don't know anything about the _teulu_."

The fox's ears picked up on the familiar Welsh word. She wasn't entirely sure of the meaning, but knew it had something to do with the coven. Her gaze flickered over the witch's features.

"Your brother sees no problem with progress…"

"Progress has little to do with this. I don't care that you consider yourself wise, child," Gwen spat at her, the inky black liquid that ran through her veins rising to the surface of her skin.

A chill ran down Jennifer's spine at the sight of it.

"I don't care how old you are." Gwen stood, a scowl on her face as she warned, "You will _never_ understand our ways. You will always be an outsider to us. Not because of your breed, but because of your insolence."

"I didn't come here to fight."

"Yes you did. Don't ever bring up matters that don't concern you, much less delude yourself into thinking you're making _progress_."

With that final word of advice, Gwen left the woman to sort out the bill.

Back at the witch's house, Monroe had spent the better part of his afternoon in the secret room behind the closet's wall. It wasn't very large, maybe ten by twelve feet and unfurnished. The only thing that made it truly stand out were the various trunks of odd smelling vials filled with odd looking powders, grasses and general dried plant life. He assumed they had to do with magic, so he kind of dismissed them(mostly because he was a bit afraid of what might happen to him if he didn't).

That is, until he noticed some of the chests was filled not with glassware, but with records. 78s mostly. He tilted his head and slipped one out of its thin paper casing.

It was made of shellac, so he took extra care with it as he fingered the grooves. Monroe's dark eyes flickered over the title(_Johann Sebastian Bach's Cello suite No. 1 Prelude_) and was a touched surprised.

Gwen had never really struck him as a classical fan. He supposed they may have belonged to her grandfather. He gently put it back in its protective casing and set it back in the trunk. He flipped through the rest without removing them, noting a few more Bach records as well as a few post war era classics. There were a few vinyl ones scattered through out it as well. He hummed and closed the chest before moving on the one adjacent to it. When he looked inside, he could barely contain his nerdgasm.

A mint condition crank operated 1897 Berliner Gramophone.

Monroe gaped at it a few moments. How the hell had she gotten her hands on one of these? Finally, a rather loud, "Awesome!" escaped his lips and he found himself quickly pulling over the other trunk.

He had to see if it worked. His large hands shook as they pulled out one of the records randomly. The Blutbad cranked it quickly and set the record on the spindle. His fingers shook as he slowly dipped the needle in to the grooves.

The sound of a full band swelling up met his ears and a grin stretched over his face. The engineer in him was overwhelmed with the urge to take the beautiful piece of machinery apart and coo over every tiny little mechanism inside. It was not entirely unlike the urge he had towards Gwen on days when she walked around his house completely naked for no other reason than she simply enjoyed being naked.

Monroe was considering the implications of that when he heard the front door open. Quickly, he slid the needle off the record and put it back in its case. He did the same with the player. With one last loving look, he closed the trunk and slipped out of the closet.

He shut and locked the secret door before putting the key back in its hiding place.

Gwen opened the door to her bedroom to find him sprawled out casually on top of her blankets. He smiled innocently at her.

Gwen perked a confused brow at him. "You're still here."

The man blinked. "Uh, yeah. Is that like, not okay?"

She didn't say anything a moment. "I guess. You didn't like, go through my underwear drawer, did you?"

He paused.

Gwen snickered. "As long as you put them back when you were done, I really don't care."

Desperately, he changed the subject. "How'd the lunch go?"

The smile slipped from her face. "Not well. She's a Fuchsbau."

"At least she's not mortal, right?"

"Fushbau are mortal," She explained, "Lots of Wessen are. She's also a total bitch and I don't think I'm going to be getting invited to the wedding."

Monroe blinked and sat up. "Oh, sorry, I guess."

"It's okay. I don't think I'd be able to stomach going."

She dropped down on the edge of the bed and pulled her arm out of one of the sleeves. Making quick work of the other, she stripped down to her underwear. Monroe watched her curiously as she fell back on the bed. He pushed back some of her long dark curls as she buried her face in his chest.

Pressing a kiss to her brow, he laid back down with her. "It'll work out," Monroe told her, cupping the side of her face. He turned it to look at him and frowned at the tears in her eyes. "I promise."

**A/N: I want to post my Ash(SPN)/Miranda(OC) fic, but I haven't finished Baby Blues yet. Since it's a prequel, would anyone care? Thoughts? Opinions? Also, I like this chapter, though it doesn't have much interaction between Monroe and Gwen. But I like the little bits. On to Father's Day next! **


	9. Father's Day

**Father's Day**

"I don't like this."

"Me neither."

"Than why are we here?"

"Because I don't want to be home when my brother calls and tells me how much I suck for not calling our dad." The brunette explained as she bent down to tie her shoe laces.

The mall was filled with people- mostly families out celebrating the holiday and teenagers. The mall was loud and smelt like a combination of b.o and Axe body spray.

Monroe was certain this was what hell would be like. Instead of complaining, however, he took a bite of his Cinnabun. "Is he the one who's been calling you?"

"Yep. Nonstop for the past two days." She wiped her hands on a napkin and reached for her smoothie. "I guess he really wants to let me in on how the whole wedding debacle went."

His brows rose in surprise. "You didn't go?"

"I wasn't invited." The witch corrected, her tone emotionless as she brushed some of her dark hair from her eyes.

That was unusual for Gwen, but Monroe didn't mention it. Just frowned sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever." A flush rose on her cheeks as he brushed his fingers against hers. When she didn't pull away, the Blutbad laced them together.

He shuffled his seat closer to hers and wrapped his arm around her thin shoulders. She sighed and rested her head on his chest. A faint chuckle escaped her lips and she kissed his cheek.

"Have I mentioned how awesome you are?"

"Not today," He teased, a grin pulling at his lips as she kissed them.

Gwen nodded, "You're awesome." She ruffled his hair playfully. "Good boy."

His dark brown eyes sharpened at her. "I hate you."

"No you don't." Her hand fell to his shoulder and she nuzzled her face against his, enjoying the tickle of his beard on her cheek.

The moment was slightly ruined by her phone buzzing impatiently in her pocket and she pulled away with a sigh. She pulled it out and shut it off before resuming her place- practically in his lap.

Of course, this reconciliation was ruined by a small child running by them, screaming at the top of its tiny lungs. Monroe let out a growl of frustration. "Can we please get out of here?"

"Yes. Yes we can." Gwen nodded and shrugged her jean vest on.

She regretted the decision almost the moment they stepped outside. The June air was unseasonably humid. Her dark hair clung to the back of her neck, and she brushed some of the damp strands away from her cheeks. She muttered something vulgar in her native tongue about the heat before looking at the Blutbad. Cool as a cucumber, with not the slightest hint of discomfort on his strong features(despite his jacket and slacks).

"I hate you."

Monroe arched a curious brow. "What?"

"Nothing…_prick_."

"What was that?" He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to his side. She whined with annoyance. It was too hot to be affectionate! Monroe ignored this. Nuzzling against her moist skin he clamped his teeth down lightly on her jugular. He felt her pulse skip under his bite and ran his tongue long her neck, following a bead of sweat.

"Hate you." Gwen repeated weakly. She prodded his side gently. He backed off, but his smirk stayed in place.

"Liar."

They made it back to the car without further interruption. The ride how was equally as pleasant, filled with Monroe complaining about Gwen's terrible taste in music and the woman complaining about how his ancient fucking air condition wouldn't stop blasting heat at her.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't exactly pleasant.

"I'm not listening to this crap!"

Gwen rolled her eyes as he jabbed at the radio with a aggressive finger. "Well, we can't all live on opera and classical shit, babe."

"But why does it have to be eighties rock? Why can't it be nineties rock?"

"Because there's no nineties rock on the radio right now," The brunette shrugged, smacking the Bug's ventilation with a frown. A wave of hot air smacked her in the face. "Oh, you _whore's son!_"

Monroe grabbed her hand and shoved it back into her lap. "Don't talk to her like that, she doesn't like that."

A snicker escaped Gwen's throat as they pulled into his drive way. She rolled her eyes. "You're fucked."

"Well, let's go inside," He grinned spritely, "Then you can be fucked."

"I'd like that."

Of course, when they got out of the Bug, their plans for fornication changed. A woman in her mid fifties stood on the porch next door, frowning at the pair of them.

"Uh, Gwen…" Monroe nudged the dark haired woman and nodded toward the stranger who was glaring at them. "Looks like you got company."

She followed his line of sight and her brows raised at the sight. She raised her hand and the woman approached. Monroe tilted his head curiously but said nothing as the women embraced.

"Hey, Gran."

"Gwen." The fair-haired woman nodded, her eyes calm and warm as she gazed at her granddaughter. They sharpened considerably as they rose to Monroe. "Dog."

"Gran." Gwen whispered harshly, a blush on her cheeks. "Be nice."

"My apologies." The woman offered her hand. He thought she looked like Julie Andrews. That is, if Julie Andrews went through a weird stoner phase and developed a long lasting love for paisley. She introduced herself with stiff politeness. "Morgan Ceridwen."

Monroe shook it, and noticed she cringed at the size difference. "Monroe."

"I know." Morgan's pale blue eyes slipped to the brunette next to him. "Gwen seems to be rather… _fond_ of you."

The Blutbad blushed slightly, and wrapped an arm around the young woman's waist. Gwen, who was flushed slightly, leaned into his side. Morgan didn't seem to appreciate that, but said nothing. It was none of her business who her granddaughter saw personally. The child had always had a short attention span. She doubted she would be seeing much of this young man. Just the same, she was thankful he hadn't ripped her throat out and seemed rather enamored with the younger witch.

"So, what brings you to the neighborhood?" Gwen asked.

"I have some news, could we go inside?" Morgan's gaze slipped to Monroe's face, "To talk privately?"

The man cleared his throat awkwardly and gave his neighbor a pat on the back. "I'll see you later, Gwen."

"See ya."

He shook Morgan's hand once again. "It was good to meet you."

"Likewise." The blonde repeated, taking her granddaughter by the arm. "I'll make this quick. I'm sure you two plan on sinning soon."

Monroe blushed red and looked helplessly to Gwen. The brunette only shrugged passively and replied, "Well, we kinda were."  
>After that he just kind of stared at her before sighing and going inside his house. Her grandmother shook her head. "Strange little pup, ain't he?"<p>

"Mhm."

"And you like him?"

"Mhm."

"Well, that's your business." Morgan admitted. She nodded toward the brunette's house. "I have some news."

Gwen huffed but followed the older woman over to her porch. Rubbing the back of her neck, she asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Fine. Jakob's coming into town in a few weeks…" The medicine woman watched her granddaughter's face carefully while keeping her own a blank mask. "I just thought I'd give you a head's up."

The brunette blinked with surprise. "I thought they were still touring?"

"Apparently not. He's having some sort of exhibit downtown…" Morgan shrugged casually. "I thought you should know. Brace yourself."

Gwen scoffed. Crossing her arms over her chest, she told her grandmother, "I don't see what the big deal is. He's one of my best friends- that's not going to change just because he's actually, you know, in town."

"And how is your little pet going to handle all this?"

"I don't know- I don't really see Monroe as the jealous type."

"He's a Blutbad."

"He's a _reformed_ Blutbad."

The blonde woman rolled her eyes. "Fine let me put it this way. Not only is he a Blutbad, he's a man. All men all possessive."

"Jakob never was."

"Jakob is a freak of nature." Morgan retorted with a sigh. "I just thought you should know. Apparently he's been trying to get a hold of you for the past couple days."

"No, that's Harris."

"No, that's Jakob. Wait- why aren't you taking calls from Harris?"

Meanwhile, Monroe was trying to keep his mind occupied. He pulled out his cello. Over the past few days he had taken it upon himself to remind Gwen of the wonder of the classics. Not that she knew it yet.

A smile twitched at his lips at the thought of surprising her- she had complained on various occasions that she had never heard him play- never realizing he was the one in for the surprise.


	10. The Fourth Of July Part One

**The Fourth of July(Part One).**

Gwen sighed with contentment from her place on Monroe's chest. One of her legs were slid through his, one of arms draped around her shoulders. She was feeling pretty good. Very good in fact.

The man under her noticed too. He quirked a brow and smirked at her. His fingers caressed her back lightly. "What's up?"

"Have I mentioned how much I appreciate your body lately?"

"Uh- no, I don't think you have." He told her, his voice laced with amusement.

Gwen hugged him a little tighter. "You actually have like, a build. It's nice."

Monroe blinked. "Did you just call me fat?"

She shot up, her features appalled at the thought. "No! I said I liked that you weren't a stick figure!" The brunette buried her face in his chest. "It makes me feel feminine."

"Oh, well…okay. That's cool, I guess."

With him back to his secure state, Gwen decided to tell him she was going on a date with another man.

He blinked. After a moment he sat them both up, holding her by the shoulders, he asked, "What was that?"

"A friend of mine is coming into town," She explained, not looking up from his chest. "Jakob. I'm always his date."

"His date for _what_?"

She lifted a shoulder casually. "He's an artist. Whenever he has a gallery I go with him…when I can, anyway."

Monroe lifted a brow at him, the grip on her shoulders tightening. "Is that so?"

The woman flinched. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. "If you're wondering," Gwen admitted, "We were…together for a while, but it was a long time ago. We're just friends now."

"Friends who-"

"Friends who haven't had sex in years." The brunette promised, kissing his collarbone. "I figured I'd take the direct route. I'm actually supposed to be going to meet him in like an hour…"

"Hm." Monroe's lips pressed into a thin line as he stared down at her. "Is that right?"

She blushed, "Please don't be mad."

"I'm not mad," The Blutbad lied. He could feel the wolf itching at the surface, prowling for a fight. But he managed to suppress it okay. Swallowing he brushed off her surprise. "It's not like we're together or anything."

"True." Gwen nodded passively. Ignoring the sting at his comment, she smiled at him. "I'm glad you're being so cool about this. I thought we'd be having another Easter fiasco."

"Oh, you mean when you went out and fucked a bunch of dudes behind my back?"

The witch rolled her eyes to mask her hurt and pried herself from his grasp. "Yeah, that."

"Well, you promise nothing's gonna happen between you two?"

Gwen glanced at his face. He looked almost worried. It was well masked, but uncertainty was hovering just below the surface. She cupped his cheeks and nuzzled her brow against his. Lips brushing against his, she promised nothing would.

"Don't fret, _fy cariad_." She grinned at him, her fingers brushing his cheek gently. "I'll let you be the one to unwrap me tonight after I'm done being all gussied up."

He eyed her doubtfully. Those Welsh words had been slipping more and more in their conversations, but she refused to tell him what they meant. "Mhm."

"Mhm," The witch mocked. She grabbed his shirt off the floor and slipped it over her shoulders.

"That's mine."

"I know."

And with those departing words, Gwen left his bedroom in favor of her own home. She showered and dressed before heading into town.

When she got to the restaurant, a rather expensive looking Italian one, she felt a touch out of place. Her attire was rather lax (just a pair of cut off jean shorts that grazed mid-thigh and a black tank top) compared to the other patrons' suits and tie combos, but she didn't let it bother her as a waiter led her to the outdoor dining area.

Jakob was already waiting, glancing casually over a menu. When he noticed she had arrived(fifteen minutes late, but that was unsurprising), a smile graced his sharp, handsome features and he stood to meet her.

"Wendy," Jakob greet in a breezy tone that all Coinneach men seemed to have(at least in Gwen's experience).

"Jako." She smiled warmly as they embraced. It was tight, but brisk. Just long enough to make the waiter uncomfortable. The pair shared a smirk over that before sitting.

Meanwhile in a black police issued SUV, two men were watching the couple from roughly a block away.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Nick bemoaned, leaning back in the driver's seat with a pout. "Stalking is against the law you know."

"Shut up."

The detective rolled his eyes and took a sip of the coffee that Monroe had bought him. "Are the binoculars really necessary?"

"What part of _shut up_ did you not understand?" The Blutbad asked, his sights locking on the stranger who was facing his woman. "Huh."

"What? What's wrong? He's not eating her face is he?"

"Yes, Nick." Monroe shot him a stern glare as the binoculars were snatched from his hands. "He's eating her face. Dude, do you even hear yourself any more?"

"Hey, I gave up my lunch break to do this for you, I'll mouth off if I want." Blue eyes glinting with mischief, he looked into the lens. "Huh…Not exactly what I was expecting."

The stranger, Jakob, was a lean man of perhaps thirty with blonde hair and pale skin. No. That wasn't totally correct. The stranger, Jakob, was a _freakishly skinny_ man of perhaps thirty with blonde hair and pale skin. Even from this distance, Nick could tell he had that queer, androgynous look that women seemed to like nowadays. His blue eyes flickered over to Monroe. Monroe who would now doubt hulk over the stranger. Monroe who looked like he could easily rip the man apart if given the chance(if the look on his face was any way to go by).

"So…that's the ex-boyfriend…at least we know Gwen doesn't have a type."

"Shut up."

"Tell me to shut up one more time and I'll arrest you for insulting an officer."

The Blutbad scoffed at his friend. He took the binoculars back and asked, "What'd you think they're talking about?"

"You, probably."

"Ya think?"

Nick was partially right. Much to the young woman's joy, the pair were in fact, discussing Gwen's lover.

"Get out, really?" Jakob asked with a grin. His light English accent was just barely evident. He leaned forward. "Is it true what they say? About their…prowess?"

"If you're asking, no, we haven't fucked in the woods yet."

"Such language," Her former beau teased, "My father would be proud. Your father on the other hand…"

Gwen chuckled and sipped at her wine. "Can we not talk about him, please?"

"Of course. Let's get back to you fucking a dog."

"_Jakobi Coinneach!"_ She snapped at him, blush high on her cheeks. "Don't call him that!"

Snickering, the man grinned wickedly at her. "Do you make him wear a collar as well?" When he noticed her annoyance he relented, waving a hand, he apologized. "I didn't meant no offense, darling."

The woman continued to flush with annoyance, but said nothing on the matter. "This isn't proper lunch conversation."

"You're right!" He slapped his hand down on the table, jostling their wine. He pointed a finger at her, "Just one more question!"

"Oh my god, really!" She groaned, slumping in her seat. Her arms crossed along her bosom. "Fine, spit it out."

"Have you told him you're in love with him yet?"

The redness left her cheeks at an alarming rate. Jakob lifted a brow at her suddenly pallor features, but said nothing as she blinked at him. "Pardon?"

"You're in love with him." He repeated as though it was obvious.

"I know that! But you're not supposed to know that!" She pouted, masking the warped feeling of guilt with rage. "And you're not supposed to be all cool with it!"

"Oh, am I supposed to play the jealous scorned lover card here? Because, I can you know."

Gwen rolled her eyes at him. "No. Don't. We're past that."

"Good."

"And no, I haven't."

Jakob picked up his glass once again. "Why not?"

"Because I don't think it would go over…well." She explained vaguely, thinking back to the _we're-just-friends-who-happen-to-bone_ conversation they had earlier that afternoon.

"Why not?"

"Stop saying that."

The lithe man shrugged passively and didn't press the subject. "Very well." Instead, he switched to the upcoming gallery. "I think you'll like this one."

"What's the premise?" The witch asked curiously, straightening in her seat.

Meanwhile, Nick was telling Monroe it was time to leave and Monroe's cell phone was ringing obnoxiously. The Blutbad ignored both of them.

"What do you think that was about?"

"Probably realized how late it was getting," Nick hinted. When his friend didn't look up, the lawman leaned over and reached into Monroe's jacket pocket. He pulled out the phone, clicked accept and pressed it to the Blutbad's ear.

"Monroe." The man answered, not tearing his eyes away from the now standing couple.

Nick huffed as he continued to hold the phone to his friend's ear. This was ridiculous- he could at least take the damn phone! Shaking his head in discontent, Nick remained silent as Monroe set the binoculars down and pulled a pad of paper from his pocket.

The Grimm stared daggers at the Blutbad as the latter got out a pen and proceeded to jot down an address. When the conversation was apparently over, Monroe pulled his head away. "Where-"

"Are we not even gonna talk about what just happened?" The smaller man asked as he slammed the phone into the large man's chest.

"What?" The wolf tilted his head with confusion, but Nick only sighed at him. When he waved his hand, Monroe shook off the driver's annoyance. Blinking at him with a hint of wary doubt, he raised the binoculars back to his face.

Nick promptly and brutally slapped them from his hands. "No! No more out of character stalking! I have to go back to work!"

"Yeah," The Blutbad sighed, "Me too."

"Is that what the phone call was about?"

"Duh."

A pause before Nick snapped, "Get out of my car."

"What?"

"I said get out of my car, Monroe. Before I do something I regret."

The passenger rolled his eyes but did as he was told, inadvertently stepping into the path of his totally-_not_-girlfriend and her totally-_not_-boyfriend. The pair stopped just short of running into him, chattering idly about whether or not it was ethical to profit on what was essential a remake of his previous work.

Gwen lifted her head up to look at the man who had blocked her view and grinned widely. "Monroe!"

Jakob's brows rose and a smirk of his own rose to his lips at his past lover's smile. Monroe on the other hand, was too busy being mortified at being found out to even begin to pretend to be nonchalant.

"Ugh, Gwen, um…hi. How's…things?"

"Great!" The brunette wrapped her arms around his middle and gave his scruffy cheek a peck. "What're you doin' out here?"

"Just…"

"Helping me with a case?" Nick called from the car that was still parked beside the trio.

Monroe pointed at him. "Exactly!"

Jakob arched a brow. The gesture was, surprisingly, more curious than suspicious as he asked, "I thought you were a clock maker?"

Rage filled the Blutbad –that this scrawny excuse for a beta would speak to him in the presence of his woman made his claws come out. He tucked them into his palm. "I am."

"Wendy says you're the best in town." The pale stranger smiled wistfully at the woman tucked into his side. "She's quite fond of you."

"Mhm." Monroe grit his teeth. Hadn't Morgan said something to that effect as well? This time it seemed less condescending somehow, almost approving coming from Jakob. He grateful for that as he wrapped his arm around the short woman's shoulders. "So I've been told."

"We haven't been properly introduced," The man stuck his hand out. "I'm Jakob…"

Monroe had just taken his hand when Jakob finished.

"…Gwen's husband."

**A/N: Thoughts? Opinions on Jakob? Also, it is pronounced; Jack-O-bi when spelt Jakobi and Jack-Ob when Jakob.**


	11. The Fourth Of July Part Two

**Fourth of July Part Two**

Time seemed to slow as the words fell out of Jakob's mouth.

For a long while, Monroe only stared at the man across from him. His whole body felt tense. The hand he was shaking went to pull back, but the Blutbad didn't allow it.

In the SUV, Nick began struggling with his seat belt. _Had to get out, had to get out, had to get out before Monroe committed homicide in the middle of the day_- his mind raced as he swung the door open.

Monroe's grip tightened on the man's as he echoed, "Husband?"

"Yes…" Jakob's blue-green eyes slipped to Gwen. "You didn't tell him?"

"No." She shrugged calmly, not understanding the fuss. "I told him we had been together and now we weren't. What does it matter if we're still technically married?"

Monroe let out a growl. His brown eyes bled red. Thankfully Nick heard this and finally managed to get his goddamn seatbelt off. Jakob once again tried to relinquish the grip on his hand, but to no luck.

The wolf's red eyes snapped down to the brunette woman still tucked passively in to his chest. "Were you ever gonna tell me?"

"No. I mean, if it came up, sure, but what's the big deal?" She tilted her head up at him. "It wasn't even our idea- right, Jako?"

"I don't think now is the best time for pet names," The stranger whispered at her, his eyes shifting to inky black. "Make him let go of my hand."

Nick clapped Monroe on the shoulder and grabbed his arm. He began forcing it down. "Okay, Monroe, you heard the man, let him go."

"You weren't gonna tell me? Like at all?" Monroe asked, his rage subsiding into hurt. "What if…"

When his voice trailed off, Gwen frowned. Her gaze softened at him as she repeated, "What if _what_?"

The wolf let go of the stranger's hand. He didn't bother answering her question, just stared at her with disappointment before his eyes shifted back to brown.

Seeing this, Jakob's slipped back to blue and he sighed. "I didn't mean to upset you; I assumed Gwen would've let you in on our family's traditions."

_Our family,_ Monroe echoed mentally. A dry chuckle escaped his lips. "Well she hasn't." He cleared his throat and shook Nick's hand away. The detective offered him a sympathetic glance(which the Blutbad ignored) and gave his back a pat.

Jakob frowned at Gwen, who still seemed to have no idea why everyone was so upset. He shook his head, and looked back to Monroe. "Yeah. I guess she's kinda like that."

"Hm."

Nick swallowed, and tugged on Monroe's jacket. "Monroe? Don't you have an appointment to get to?"

"Uh? Oh, right." The Blutbad's brown eyes slipped down to Gwen's. She was still looking between the men pensively. "I'll see you tonight."

A smile lit up her face and she nuzzled against his neck as if Jakob wasn't even there. Warily, Monroe shot the husband a look. It was intended to be smug, but the expression fell when he noticed the man's features.

Instead of envy or annoyance or even anger, Jakob was smiling approvingly at them. Frankly, that was probably the more disturbing alternative.

Monroe dropped his gaze back to Gwen. He asked when she was going to be home and the woman glanced at the skinny man for an answer.

"No later than twelve, I suspect." Jakob told him with a shrug. He tucked his hands into his black slacks pockets. "We have no intention of staying for the after party."

"Jako has a flight to catch in the morning." His wife explained. She looked up at her lover curiously, "Did he say you have an appointment?"

"Work," Monroe explained gruffly. He felt uncomfortable having his arm wrapped around her- although just this morning it would've been the most natural thing in the world to him.

Nick glanced between them and pushed his friend toward the car. "I'll give you a ride home."

Monroe submitted, sliding into the passenger seat just as the detective shifted his attention toward the woman. "Gwen? A word?"

The witch followed his over to the other side of the car.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" The detective whispered at her. His tone was a cross between frantic and horrified(and perhaps just a touch angry). "Why would you not tell him that?"

"I don't see how it matters-"

"Don't see how it-" Nick huffed at her. "He's been playing mistress to you for the past six months!"

Gwen spoke in a slow, deliberate voice that would've offended even the most patient of people. "But, me and Jakob aren't together anymore."

Nick inhaled deeply. Sometimes talking to Gwen could be very similar to talking to a puppy- she was easily distracted, simple and sweet- but mostly she could be really fucking dense. He took her by the shoulders(she seemed rather surprised by this) and squeezed them gently.

"_Gwen_."

The woman dropped her hands to his shoulders and did the same, mocking. "_Nick_."

"Do you remember what happened when you went to the orgy?"

"I remember the hate sex that followed it." The witch tucked her hands in to her pockets. "I don't see-"

Nick sighed at her. "Do you not see that Monroe might be the jealous type?"

"He has nothing to be jealous of. Jakob's has lots of girlfriends- even a few boyfriends." Gwen tilted her head, but her eyes and tone remained serious. "He does not need me muddling up the sexual pot with my fetishes and lapses into insanity."

"So- nothing's going on between you?" The man asked. He was vaguely confused and suddenly very tired.

"No."

"Okay, well, good. Have fun at your art thing."

Her smile reappeared, as bright and warm as it ever was and she nodded. "Thanks! Let me just go say good bye to Monroe."

Nick nodded. Gwen went over to the passenger window and stuck her head in. Monroe, who had heard the entire conversation(along with Jakob) cocked a brow at her. She smacked her lips against his.

"It's over between us." She whispered, nuzzling against his cheek. "I don't want any one but you, wolfboy."

A smirk twitched at Monroe's lips and he pulled her in for a firmer kiss. His tongue had just brushed her lower lip when Nick got in the SUV. The detective closed the door a bit harder than necessary. The force rocked the car and jarred them from their intimate moment.

Jakob looked mildly relieved. He waved to Monroe. "I'll make sure she doesn't get into trouble."

"Thanks," The Blutbad smiled at him, his distrust of the man having evaporated at the woman's warm and easy words.

The stranger grinned and nodded. Gwen took his arm once again and the pair of them waved as the SUV pulled away from the curb. Jakob smirked and shot his wife a knowing look.

This earned a blush from her. "Shut up."

"I didn't-"

"Shut up!" She punched him on the arm.

Jakob winced. Rubbing it absently, he teased, "Save the violence for the bedroom, darling."

"I hate you."

He snickered and the pair of them continued on their way down the street(back to where Gwen had parked the 'Vette). They chatted idly for the next couple hours. About the venue and Morgan's lack of appreciation for granddaughter's taste in men. About Monroe's job(Jakob seemed stunned that anyone- much less a Blutbad –would _chose_ to work with clocks) and how strange it was that Gwen of all people was friends with a cop. About Jakob's family and how they felt about the eldest son of Coinneach leaving the _Teulu_.

Meanwhile, Monroe was limping back to his Bug. His tools clutched to his chest, he swallowed at the sight of the sickle painted in what appeared to be blood on his hood. As he got closer he realized he was right. It was blood. His own blood had been slathered across the hood of his beloved car.

Swallowing, he began frantically wiping it off with the sleeve of his jacket. His tools clattered to the ground. Monroe didn't notice. Just worked diligently until it was gone. Stomach churning with disgust and sides throbbing with pain, the Blutbad got in the car.

**A/N: Ugh, I had to re-write this after it didn't save…so it didn't turn out exactly how I wanted it. Drama in the next one though.**


	12. The Fourth Of July Part Three

**Fourth of July Part Three**

Gwen never suspected anything was off when she entered Monroe's house. She didn't bother knocking, knowing that it was rather late and there was an off chance he was asleep. She wasn't expecting him to be in deep conversation with Nick, however.

"And what I'm doing with you is definitely messing with the status quo." Monroe finished. A deep frown was set in his handsome features, pensive as he looked at his friend.

Nick opened his mouth to reply when movement caught his attention. His eyes widened at the sight of the brunette. "Gwen- uh, hey."

"Everything okay in- Jesus Christ!" Gwen's jaw dropped as her neighbor turned around.

She was on him in an instant. Monroe closed his eyes as she cupped his face in her hands. He could smell a faint, irritating bit of perfume on her skin. It made his nose twitch and that simple action made his swollen eye sting. Of course, the woman's prodding it didn't help. After a stern glare from the man, Gwen let go of him and ran back out the door.

Nick stared after her, but didn't comment. Instead, he looked back to Monroe. "I'm not going to ask for any more of your help."

"Screw that. I'm not runnin'," Monroe slowly made his way over to the fridge and pulled out a couple beers. He wasn't sure if or when Gwen would be back, but he pulled one out for her anyway. He handed Nick one. "You can ask me for all the help you need. I've never really been much of a status quo kind of guy."

They clinked bottles and shared a smirk.

Unfortunately, their bromantic moment was interrupted by Gwen. After more or less kicking the door open, the petite brunette stumbled into the kitchen. In her arms lay a heavy looking box. Nick went to help her with it, only to have her sidestep him.

Gwen flashed him a dark look of distrust. Mortals didn't belong in Wessen affairs, or at the very least humans didn't belong in _her_ affairs. She dropped the box on the counter. The cop arched a confused brow and glanced at Monroe. The Blutbad shrugged as the witch took his face in her pale hands once again. She inspected the cut above his bloodied eye carefully. A sympathetic coo escaped her lips.

He winced theatrically as she brushed her fingers across it none too gently. "Hey, watch it, Ceridwen."

"Don't be such an infant," She scowled, thumbing his beard absently with one hand as she continued to poke at the cut with the other.

Monroe smirked at the worry in her eyes. He softly fisted the silk material of her blue dress.

Nick averted his eyes. That was just a little bit too intimate for his tastes. He cleared his throat before swallowing what was left of his beer in a few large, uncomfortable gulps. "I should get going."

The wolf nodded and pulled Gwen closer to him. She went without resistance. The man smirked at him, "I'll be seeing you."

Nick nodded and went to leave. He stopped half way to the door. "Gwen?"

The woman looked over at him curiously.

"Take care of him, okay?"

She nodded firmly and went back to fussing over her man. The witch paid no mind as the door closed, leaving her alone with the Blutbad. She peered up into his bruised face a moment before asking, "What happened?"

"Got mugged." Monroe stepped away from her. His eyes raked up and down her long pale blue dress but he made no comment.

Gwen's brows rose as he took another sip of his beer. "_What_?" she moved over to the small island where her box sat. "By _who_?"

"I dunno." He lied. A pang of guilt went through his chest as he looked her in the face and _lied_ to her. He may've been upset with her for not telling him about Jakob, but she didn't do it to be purposely malicious. Monroe reasoned that he was doing it to protect her. She was better off not knowing. Not knowing about the Reapers or the Grimm. It was safer to keep her in the dark.

Gwen frowned but didn't press the subject. She opened the box and pulled out a few jars. Nodding toward the couch, she told him to go lay down. He did as he was told. His sides ached and creaked as he did, but once he was splayed out it wasn't so bad. The Blutbad listened as the woman set about doing…whatever it was she was doing in his kitchen and he let his eyes flutter closed.

A few minutes later, Gwen came over and sat down on the table. Monroe's brown eyes went from her face to her bare neck to the small medicine bowls in her hands. One was filled with a light grayish goo, the other a thick green liquid. He sniffed at them, but was surprised to find they didn't smell terrible.

"Okay, sit up."

Monroe stayed where he was. "No."

"No?" She echoed with confusion. "What do you mean no?"

"You're not putting that gunk on me."

"What? Don't you trust me?" Gwen teased. She gestured to his grey t-shirt and flannel combo. "Come on, lose 'em."

The Blutbad grunted and sat up with only a brief helping hand on his shoulder from her. That was all his pride would allow. He peeled his clothes away quickly, ignoring the gasp from Gwen and the sharp bouts of pain at the simple action. He flushed faintly as cool pale fingers brushed along his side. "It's not as bad as it looks."

A harsh chuckle of doubt slipped from her painted red lips as she looked over his battered torso. Carefully, Gwen got down on her knees next to the couch. She eyed his bruises; the blue and purple marks angry and swollen on his olive skin. A few thin cuts lined them as well, but they were little more than scratches. The sight of them made Gwen's stomach clench. Someone had kicked him while he was down.

They both ignored the slight quiver in her hand as she gently brushed the green liquid over the bruised skin with her fingertips. Monroe blinked at the queer feeling. Tingly and cold, the solution was instantly absorbed into his skin.

"I can't heal the bruises." She told him in a quiet voice, "But this should help with the swelling. Help you sleep, too."

"You gonna stay tonight?" He blinked heavily at her.

Gwen bit her lip and nodded almost eagerly. "I'd like to. If…if you're not still mad about-"

"I'm not."

"I really didn't mean to-"

"I know." Monroe said with a hint of finality. That conversation was over. He didn't want to think about her marriage or husband or stupid family anymore tonight. He just wanted to lie down, put his head in her lap and put the entire shitty day behind him.

The woman smirked at him and leaned over to kiss his brow. With him distracted, she dipped her fingers in the goo and swiped it across the cut.

"Ah! Goddamn it, Gwen, that burns!" The wolf flashed at her.

It took only a few seconds for the cut to mend itself. She pecked his cheek and moved on to his chest. She did each swipe as quick as possible, trying to make it as painless as possible for him, but the faint touch still made him hiss. She apologized profusely with each one.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Gwen squealed, nervously trying to ease his discomfort. "Two more! Okay! Okay, there, done!"

Monroe stared flatly at her and leaned back on the couch. She stood gracefully, gathering up the near empty bowls. He reached up and ran his fingers over the blue silk of her gown.

"You look nice."

She flushed faintly. "Thanks. I know you'd prefer red but…" A smirk lifted the corner of her mouth, "I thought that might be a little dramatic for a casual showing."

The man let her go and the witch slipped out into the kitchen. The sound of running water filled the air and he shifted in an effort to get more comfortable.

His eyes were already starting to droop when Gwen came back in. She smiled softly at him and brushed some of his hair from his face. "Do you think…can you make it up stairs?"

He grunted and moved. "No." Monroe sat up. She slipped in behind him and let him lay on her chest. The Blutbad snuggled against her breast. A sigh of contentment escaped his lips as her fingers began gently weaving through his dark hair.

"Gwen?"

"Mhm?"

"I love you, you know."

"I know." Gwen held him a little tighter, "I love you too, fy cariad."

He chuckled. "One day I'm gonna find out what that means."

"Maybe. But not tonight."

**A/N: Funfact**: I now have another Monroe/OFC fic up exclusively on my Tumblr. Various snippets of Monroe and his childhood friend- who happens to be a sprite(aka mermaid).


	13. The Fourth Of July Part Four

**Fourth of July Part Four**

While Monroe slept, Gwen kept herself busy with a book she found on the table.

After fifteen minutes of trying to make heads or tails of even the most basic of clock repair, she had a new found respect for the man.

After forty, she pitied him.

After an hour, she had flipped on the TV because by god, that was probably the most mind numbing thing she had ever forced herself to read(next to, perhaps, the extended version of Stephan King's _The Stand_). She had also kicked off her strappy black heels and managed to shift her Blutbad into a more comfortable position that allowed both of them to lay on the couch.

When he woke up, his face was buried in the nape of her neck. Monroe inhaled deeply, catching the irritating scent of lilac perfume and the warm scent of magic in her blood. Her fingers were still woven in his dark hair, absently caressing the nape of his neck. A low moan escaped his throat and he nuzzled closer to her.

"Hey."

"Hey," He muttered into her smooth skin. "How long've you been up?"

"Couple hours," Gwen licked her lips. "How're you feeling, babe?"

A touch apprehensively, Monroe sat up. There was a slight twinge in his side, but otherwise… he nodded with surprise. "Not bad."

She brushed his hair back and gave him a brief kiss. "Good. Now. Can you let me up so I can pee?"

Monroe chuckled and got up. He arched his back until it gave a sickening (but satisfying) crack. His gaze swept over her blue gown which was now stained with his blood and whatever she had slathered on his wounds the previous night. The woman didn't seem to notice as she got up. He wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her to his chest before she had a chance to scamper off to the bathroom.

"Did you mean what you said last night?" Monroe murmured into her hair.

The witch nodded. Her face buried in his chest, she told him, "Yeah. Did you?"

"Mhm."

"Good." She rocked on the tip of her toes to bite his jaw.

He recoiled in shock. "Dude, what the hell?"

"I've been waiting two hours to go to the bathroom. If you don't stop squeezing me, I'm gonna piss on your rug. I swear to god."

"You could've just woken me up!" Monroe snapped at her as she jogged away from him. "I wouldn't of minded!"

She waved him off as she made her way up the stairs. "I didn't want to! You needed time to heal!"

"I could've just went back to bed!" He hollered up the stairway. When she was finally out of sight, he laughed.

"I heard that!"

"Sorry."

"_NO YOU'RE NOT!"_

Snickering to himself, the Blutbad made his way into the kitchen. He pulled the coffee maker out and a couple cups. He listened as Gwen scuttled about upstairs. He was still kind of in shock- not over being bitten. That had passed quickly. He couldn't believe he had told her he loved her. It seemed so soon. Too soon…but it didn't feel too soon. Monroe saw the little witch almost every day without fail. When he didn't, he sometimes didn't know what to do with himself. Seeing her had become part of his routine.

Get up. Make coffee. Pilates. Clock repair. Go to Gwen's for lunch. Come home, repair more clocks. Whatever class he had scheduled for that night. Go to Gwen's for dinner. Bicker over something completely minuscule until one of them gave up. Come home. Try and get rid of Nick. Eventually give in and help him with a case. Go over to Gwen's. Have sex. Come home(most nights).

And yet somehow he had never gotten her to bake naked for him. He let out a mournful hum as he heard her come down the stairs. Out of the corner of his eye, Monroe saw her toss a familiar blue ball of material on to the table. It fell into a heap on to the floor as her arms slipped around his waist. The warm press of her breasts against his bare back was both comforting and arousing and he closed his eyes as she rested her brow on his shoulder.

"Didn't like the dress?"

"Too confining," she replied, tightening her hold on him. "Is that coffee?"

"Mhm."

"Awesome." Gwen pulled away and hopped up on to the counter next to the coffee maker.

Monroe's eyes went from her bare breasts to her bright red underwear and he smirked. His eyes shifted to match their color a moment, but shifted back to brown when she spoke.

"So…wanna tell me what really happened last night?"

"I told you," Monroe looked back to his cup. He grasped the handle of coffee maker and poured some in to the mug. "I got mugged."

She poked him in the leg with a toe. "By who?"

"I don't know."

His tone was hard, but she dismissed it, going on. "Don't lie to me, Argentina."

"I think you mean, don't _cry_ for me Argentina."

"Whatever!" Gwen raised her hand and gently brushed one of the bruises on his ribs. "Just tell me it won't happen again?"

"It won't happen again."

"You're suppose to mean it." Her soft features frowned at him. "I don't like walking in on you all…busted up."

Monroe chuckled. "Don't worry about it. I can take a lot you know."

"That's not the point."

He avoided her gaze, busying himself with his coffee. He stirred in some cream as he spoke lowly. "I can't tell you."

"But why?"

"It's dangerous enough that I'm involved," Monroe licked his lips. "I don't want you getting hurt."

"But-"

"We can either drop this or we can break up, Gwen."

The woman quieted. Her expression pensive, she stared at him. "You're serious."

"I can't tell you. I- I made a promise I wouldn't tell anyone."

"But what- whatever it is you're doing, it's dangerous?"

"Yeah." He nodded.

"And it involves Nick?"

Monroe stiffened.

"That's a yes." She touched his face, turning it to look at her. His dark eyes were serious, but not completely pleased with the conversation they were having. She thumbed his cheek gently. "Just…tell me how worried I should be here? Like hyperventilate every time you leave the house or just like, worry whenever Nick is around." She cleared her throat, "Because I already kind of do the second one."

He smirked. Putting his hand over hers, he shook his head, "You don't need to worry about me."

She jabbed one of his bruises.

"Damn it!"

"I think I do." Gwen replied with a scowl.

"Well, don't be. I don't want you worrying over me." Monroe kissed her softly, one arm wrapping around her waist as he leaned her against his cupboards. "Or hyperventilating over me... Unless it's in the bedroom."

The witch smiled weakly and sighed. "Please, just be careful. With whatever the fuck it is you're doing with that cop." She jerked back, "You're not fucking him are you? I mean, you can fuck whoever you want, but a cop? Seriously?"

"I'm not fucking him!" The Blutbad snapped at her. "And we are _not_ free to fuck other people."

"But I like fucking other people."

"_No_, Gwen."

She whined, but it was cut off as his lips once again captured hers. Pulling back, she jabbed him in the chest. "But I'm still going to orgies."

"No."

"But it's medicinal!"

He shot her a look but she didn't relent.

"Really! I need to maintain physical contact with other witches or it'll fuck with my sensory perception."

He narrowed his eyes doubtfully. "You're fucking with me."

"I am not." Gwen frowned at him with indigination. "You think I go to orgies for fun? I told you- it's like my magic's got an engine and physical contact is like the gasoline."

"Can't you just hug your grandmother for an extended period of time?" He asked with a frown.

She shrugged. "I could, but I would need to get a couple more grandmothers. The different partners help like…they just help! That's why we stay together."

Monroe cocked his head and went back to making their coffees. He was dimly reminded of the Pack and asked what she meant by them staying together.

"You know." Her shoulder bobbed casually. "Like my _Teulu_ joined Jakob's when we got married. Hell, it's why we got married."

He offered her a mug. She sniffed it and grinned. Monroe always had the best coffee. "Oh?"

"Mhm. Our fathers were friends. Different bloodlines pass on different skills, so when they intermingle it's like-" Gwen waved her hand. "It's just better for the community. Makes it bigger. Helps it function. Plus, the longer the same blood circulates, the less effective it is."

The man's brows rose. "You and Jakob were arranged?" A warm feeling rose in his chest at the thought of her not picking that lanky bastard out for herself. "By your fathers?"

"Of course. I told you it wasn't our idea." Sipping at her coffee, she asked, "Why? Does that matter?"

"It doesn't!" Monroe replied quickly. He moved over to the table and sat. "Tell me more about your family."

"No. You tell me about your family."

"One more question?"

She nodded.

"Is that why you were so upset about your dad getting remarried? It wasn't arranged?"

"No!" A fierce blush crossed her cheeks and she took a gulp of her steaming coffee. "I was mad because he sprung it on, picked a bitch for a wife, and didn't even ask me how I felt about it!"

"Okay…" He held his hand out. Eyes wide and clearly alarmed by her outburst, he told her, "Calm down."

"My turn?"

"Your turn." Monroe nodded and braced himself.

"Why didn't you call your mom on Mother's Day?"

He blinked in surprise. "What?"

"Your mom," Gwen repeated. "You didn't call her, how come?"

The Blutbad chuckled dryly and shook his head. "She wouldn't want to hear from me."

"You don't know that." She tilted her head, her long brown hair tilting with her.

"Yes I do." He sighed and took another sip of his coffee. "We haven't talked in a while. Most of the Pack doesn't talk to me…except my aunt. And a few of my cousins."

Gwen slipped off the counter and made her way over to him. She tapped her fingers on her mug a moment. "I don't really know what to say to that."

Monroe chuckled as she sat in his lap. "Nothing to say."

Her lips pressed against his cheek. After a moment of silence she offered, "I love you?"

The man snorted. She giggled. He hugged her to his chest and the rest of the day was spent chatting idly about anything other than their family lives, laying on the couch and in a very nice turn of events, Monroe finally got Gwen to bake naked for him.

And finally got to lick icing off her naked body.

**A/N: This was the last installment of Fourth of July because…well, I need to move on.**


	14. Labor Day Weekend Day One

**Labor Day Weekend Day One**

"Wanna go see the fireworks tonight?"

Monroe didn't look up from the watch he was fixing as he responded with a sound and definite, "No."

"Well we're fuckin' _gonna_."

He let out an amused snort. "Nice, Gwen. Real nice."

"Come on…" She grinned at him from the couch where she lay. Her hands never stopped moving as she continued to stitch the sleeve of one of his many flannel shirts. Her fingers moved deftly with the practiced skill. "It'll be fun! Besides, you've been working too hard lately."

Gwen was, of course, referring to his time spent with the Grimm rather than his time repairing clocks. She still didn't know about that. And as far as Nick knew, the witch was completely okay with her wolf working with a Grimm. Fortunately, the two of them didn't spend much time together without him there to play referee.

"I don't like crowds."

"Oh hush, you were fine when we went to that strip club."

Monroe's olive skin went pink and he jerked in surprise. "It was not a strip club! It was-"

"A burlesque club, same difference."

"You made me go to that too!" He snapped at her, "I didn't want to! You said you were friends with one of the singers, but you _lied_."

Gwen lifted a shoulder, not looking up from her needling. Unapologetically, she asked, "Would you have gone with me if I had told the truth?"

"Well-"

"And did you not enjoy yourself?"

"That's not the point." With a huff, he went back to his clock repair, working a tiny gauge back into place a touch more firmly than necessary. It snapped in half. A frown laced his features momentarily, almost as if to apologize to the tiny, wounded piece of metal before pulling it out with a tiny pair of tweezers. He set it aside as Gwen wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

The witch stayed quiet; choosing to simply watch him work for a few minutes.

In the rather lengthy duration of her life, she had never been particularly domestic. Yes, her father and grandparents had made sure she knew her way around a kitchen, and cleaning didn't bother her(although it was far from her favorite thing in the world) but she had never been particularly…affectionate with her lovers(or even her husband, whom she had known for literally _years_ before their marriage). Over time it seemed she had become more touchy feely(mostly likely because her birth parents had been 'barbaric cunts'- her father's words, not her own; she didn't remember enough of her birth parents to really comment), but never outside the family. It would be inappropriate.

She rested her head on his broad shoulder. In the back of her mind, she was curious as to why she had so easily warmed up to Monroe. Gwen didn't really care, however, and being with him was probably the happiest she had been in her life.

Even if it was just something as boring as watching him work. _God I am such a dweeb_, she thought to herself.

Monroe felt her smile against his neck, felt her blush too. A smirk tugged at the man's lips as she let out a quiet giggle. "What?"

"Nothin'." A hard, dramatic kiss smacked against his cheek before she pulled away from him.

Monroe's eyes left the watch and his breathe caught in his throat at the sight of her.

Gwen was pretty. She could turn a few heads even on her worst of days, but with her cheeks flushed pink and the warm, bright eyed smile on her face- he was stricken with love for her. He was actually a little embarrassed by the wave of emotion, but that didn't stop him from getting up.

He made his way toward her slowly, almost cautiously. His hands finally grasped her hips and he dropped his head to hers. Peering down at her, he nuzzled his nose against hers(having to lean quite a bit to do so, even with her popping up on to her tiptoes). His arms lowered, dropping past her waist, under her ass and Monroe lifted her up so that they were eye to eye.

"What's up, handsome?" The witch asked, completely trusting of his eccentric behavior. However, an amused brow did cock at him.

Instead of answering verbally, he began rubbing his face against hers. Then against her neck. A shriek of a laugh escaped her at the contact of his rough beard on her sensitive skin but he persisted. He marked her shoulders, before tonguing a lazy trail back up to her throat. His teeth locked onto her pulse gently and she could feel the light prodding of his extended canines.

Monroe was more than pleased that she wasn't afraid of him and had to fight back a few of the more…difficult instincts telling him to mate her. They were sated by him scenting her, but he knew that wouldn't last long. The urge wasn't exactly sexual, he could deal with sexual. Hell, the curvy brunette he was holding on to practically lived and breathed sexual.

This was…domestic.

This was scary. The thought of marking her and keeping her scared him. The thought had been in the back of his mind a while now, but he had made no attempts to bring the idea up to Gwen. Part of him feared rejection, another part of him feared this was just temporary for her. It wasn't a very large part of him, but it was still plausible. Gwen had expressed interesting in going back to traveling with her family. And another part of him, the largest part, worried he wouldn't be good enough for her. Wouldn't be able to satisfy her, wouldn't be able to keep her safe.

If he took her on for as a mate, he would _have_ to protect her. Keep her safe at all costs. Especially if they started a family- Keep their Pack safe. The warm glow that had started in his chest at the thought of this tapered off into a dark pit of guilt as he set her back down. Monroe couldn't do that and keep working with Nick…but helping the Grimm was the right thing to do. He could feel it. And that instinct was almost as strong as this one.

Gwen's smile slowly faded at the hard stare he was giving her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." The Blutbad swallowed and shook himself from his thoughts. They could wait until later. Her fingers brushed his cheek and he closed his eyes. Leaning into the touch, he spoke quietly. "Gwen?"

"Mhm?"

"Let's go to the beach."

When he opened his eyes, she looked doubtful. So he flashed her a weak smile to ease her worries. It didn't exactly help, but she returned it with as much enthusiasm as she could muster(not a hell of a lot).

"Give me an hour?" Gwen asked, the sparkle returning to her dark eyes. "I'll make it worth your while."

The Blutbad agreed and allowed her to give him a soft peck on the cheek before scampering out the back door. He sighed faintly and went back to his clock repair.

Little over an hour later, a knock roused him from a rather stubborn rusted closed pocket watch. Monroe rolled his eyes at her need to knock, but called out for her to enter anyway. The brunette skipped through the back door, picnic basket in the crook of her elbow and clad in-

"Is that my shirt?" Monroe asked with wide brown eyes. "When did you take my shirt?"

"I like this shirt!" She chirped, giving him a twirl. The red flannel went almost to her knees, making it look more like a heavy dress than a shirt. When she spun, he could see she had a pair of denim shorts underneath.

He shook his head, "So do I! That's why I bought it!"

Her brown eyes rolled at him. Changing the subject, she asked, "You ready to go?"

"I guess," He eyed her with annoyance. "I'm not gonna get that shirt back am I?"

"Don't pretend like you don't like me wearing it." She smiled impishly. "If you're a good boy I'll let you take it off me later."

Monroe scoffed and stood. Just because she was right didn't mean he was going to admit it. He grabbed his jacket off the coat rack and shrugged it on.

Being early September, neither of them were terribly concerned with the slight chill in the air. The sky was clear("Perfect for fireworks!" Gwen pointed out with a grin as they wander up to the Bug), the leaves were scattered along his yard. The woman kicked the small pile he had raked earlier, but Monroe didn't comment. More had fallen anyway, he'd have to rake again tomorrow.

It would take little over an hour to get to Cannon Beach. They had been driving through the woods about forty minutes when they began arguing over the radio.

"I just don't see why you won't just submit." Gwen chuckled.

Monroe batted her hand away from the tuner gently. "No more Alice Cooper, Ceridwen, I'm begging you."

She blew a raspberry at him and went to reach for it again. He pushed her hand away. She pushed back. They were too busy arguing the merits of classic metal to notice they were out of gas. At least, until the Bug rolled calmly to a stop and shit out on them.

Perplexed, the woman cocked a brow. "Are we there already?"

Monroe sighed and banged his head against the steering wheel. "No."

"Are we gonna have awesome forest sex?"

"No."

"Than why are we stopped, babe?"

"Because we didn't fill up the tank before we left." He groaned. His grip on the wheel tightened as Gwen opened her door. Without looking up, Monroe asked, "Where ya goin', Ceridwen?"

"I'm gonna check things out."

"Hey- no!" His hand shot out to grab her, but missed as he hollered. "That's what the stupid bimbo always says before she gets it!"

Sticking her head back in the open window, she pointed a finger at him. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't just call me a bimbo."

"I- damn it, Gwen!"

Monroe unbuckled his belt and threw his door open. The sun was just beginning to dim, casting an orange glow over the empty forest. Completely empty. The Blutbad's eyes swept over the area, but alias, there was no witch to be found. He sniffed at the air absently, but came up short.

"Gwen?" He called out. A scowl lined his face at the nervousness in his voice. "_Gwen!"_

A giggle from his left. He whipped around just in time to catch her dart before a tree.

"Gwen, come on…" Monroe swallowed anxiously. "This isn't a good idea."

A flash of movement from his right…how had she moved so fast? He wondered, the wolf having perked at the thought of a chase, growled just below the surface. Another shriek of laughter left the woman and a rolled up wad of red flannel hit him on the back.

Monroe's eyes bled and he grinned. Sniffing the air, he caught a very faint taste of her arousal and took off like a shot toward it.

After an hour, the wolf grew tired of the rut. He had come so close- just for her to disappear into the shadows like a wisp of smoke. At first it had been fun. Now it was just frustrating. He had found all of her clothing, right down to her blue flipflops.

The wood was dark, the moon was high and the air was completely still when he screamed, "_Where the fuck are you?"_

A hand met his shoulder and Monroe tackled her to the ground. His fangs bared at her as he grabbed her by the throat. He ground his hips into her own, eyes never leaving her face. Blackness had leaked from her pupils into flowing rivers over her cheeks and brow, her lips twisted in a smirk as she moved up to kiss him.

The Blutbad slammed her back down. His grip tightened on her throat, but Gwen didn't panic. Instead, she showed her neck and whimpered as she tried to pull him closer. "Monroe…"

The man sighed, desperately trying to regain control. "You shouldn't have teased me."

Her hands made quick work of his belt. "I know. I'm sorry…"

A low growl slipped passed his lips as the witch began to stroke him, giving his weeping cock the attention it deserved. His red eyes bore into her black and he rasped, "This is where you belong you know."

Gwen nuzzled her cheek against his, her hand never stopping its gently ministrations.

"Under me."

The woman moaned at his words. He could smell her getting wetter and slid his hand between her legs. Monroe grinned wickedly at her, licking her exposed neck as he teased, "That's a good witch."

He felt her shudder and set upon her like the ravenous animal he was.

**A/N: Smuttier than I intended, but you can't have a wolf in the woods without some sex. You just can't. **


	15. Labor Day Weekend Day Two

**Labor Day Weekend Day Two**

"You know, it's really kind of beautiful out here."

Monroe glanced over at Gwen.

The brunette looked rather content despite having her pale skin smudged with dirt, twigs and leaves stuck in her dark hair. With wide innocent eyes she looked over the forest as they sit on the hood of his Bug.

It was little after one in the morning and she had persuaded him to call off phoning Nick until the morning. They were now sipping at the hot chocolate she had packed (having already finished the cherry and cream cheese Danishes), completely relaxed in the dim light.

"Mhm." The Blutbad put his mug on the hood of the car and settled in against his windshield.

A hand guided her down, signaling for it was time for her to be quiet, but she went on anyway. "Pretty clear out, too."

"Yeah." Monroe cuddled her to his chest. "You sure you don't wanna call Nick?"

"Yep." Wrapping an arm around his side, the brunette grinned at him. "Why? Woods make ya nervous, Papa Wolf?"

"Stop calling me that."

Obediently, Gwen peered up at the stars in silence. A cool breeze drifted through the forest, rattling a few leaves off the trees around them. Her fingers fisted her lover's jacket and she sighed in contentment. His body was warm against hers, his fingers gentle as they worked through her hair. Gwen's dark eyes fluttered closed.

Monroe rested his head against hers, his gaze slipping up to the heavens. Stars shone brightly in the dark sky, the only light in the forest. He could feel his woman's breathe evening out, and he let his own eyes slip shut.

They slept peacefully through out the night. That is until the obnoxiously high pitched voice of Lene Nystrom woke them up.

"_If you were my King (oh!) I'd be your Queen (oh!)" _

Monroe's head jerked up. Gwen kept her eyes closed, hand slipping into her pocket to retrieve her cell. The sunlight was too bright to open them, she reasoned, flipping the phone open and putting it to her ear.

"Hello?" She muttered. The witch didn't bother to hide her exhaustion as she rolled onto her back(and off of Monroe).

"Gwen?"

"Gran?"

Monroe shifted next to her as he got out his own cell phone and called Nick.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Morgan asked, not unkindly but perhaps a touch sarcastically.

"Uh," Gwen peeked an eye open. "I dunno, nine? Ten?"

"It's eleven." Morgan told her. "And what time were you suppose to be here to meet Mr. Esdras?"

There was definite annoyance in her Grandmother's voice now. Gwen cringed at it. "Nine."

"Yes, nine. Now, if you're going to be late, that's fine. But you could at least call."

There was some ruffling over the line, presumably the Ceridwen matron was with a customer. Gwen sat up and slid off the hood of the Bug as Monroe hung up his phone.

"Nick's on his way," The man told her. He shrugged his jacket off and draped it on the girl's shoulders. "You want me to take you home, or right to your Grandmother's?"

She gave him a queer look as she slipped his coat on. He gestured to her (-_his_) soiled flannel shirt and dirt covered body. "Maybe we should head home, grab a shower?"

Gwen blushed at the wording, but still managed to nod. "Okay…can't guarantee we'll get very clean if we shower together though."

"I'm still on the line, Gwendolyn." Morgan reminded her sternly. "I am I to assume you're with your dog?"

Gwen huffed. "Don't call him that."

"Yeah," Monroe grinned at her. "Don't call me that!" His face dropped, "What'd she call me?"

The brunette rolled her eyes as a familiar black SUV pulled up behind them. "Look, Gran, I gotta go. I'll take the afternoon shift, okay?"

"Okay. Love you."

"Love you too." Gwen hung up and gave Monroe a rough shove on the shoulder. The wolf grinned at her as Nick approached them.

"Hey!" The detective waved, a wide smile on his face. He cocked a curious brow, "How long've you been out here?"

The woman brushed her tangled hair behind her ear. Smugly, she told him, "All night long."

Nick's eyes went to Monroe's. "Is that right?"

"Uh-huh," The Blutbad rolled his eyes at the other man's cheeky demeanor. "You bring that gas can?"

"Uh-huh." The smaller man mocked as he held it up. Monroe snatched it from his hand, but Nick didn't so much as flinch. Instead he snickered. Looking at Gwen, the detective asked how she was doing.

"Fine. How's Juliet?"

"Good." He nodded awkwardly. For a few moments, they stood in silence before he spoke again. "So…how're things going at your grandma's shop?"

"Fine. We had a break in a couple weeks ago, but…you know, it happens."

Nick's brows rose. Monroe had filled him in on just what the Ceridwens were selling under the table. None of it was illegal, but the use of magic, in his mind, was still on iffy ethical ground. The Blutbad had assured him that most of it was medicinal, and Nick trusted Monroe's judgment.

"Is that right?" Nick asked, his eyes slipping to the wolf. He was ignored. "Anything taken?"

"Nope." The brunette sniffed back a yawn. "Some stuff was tossed around but nothing was taken."

"Huh." The detective frowned. "Well, did you call the police?"

Gwen arched a brow. "Why? Nothing was taken."

"Well-"

"Done." Monroe made his way back over and shoved the gas can into Nick's chest. A stern look accompanied it, suggesting it was time to drop the subject. "Thanks again for bringing that out."

"Yeah." The Grimm swallowed and looked to Gwen. "Made me miss my lunch break."

Her eyes softened sympathetically. "Sorry. Swing by my place tomorrow and I'll hook you and your cop friends up with some donuts."

Nick beamed at her. "Really?"

"Sure. I mean," Monroe wrapped his arm as her as she spoke, "we owe you."

Internally, Nick made a rather joyous noise that they had upgraded themselves to a 'we' (not to mention that he was one debt out of Monroe's pocket)but he kept his expression to a taut smirk. He nodded to Gwen and told her, "That'd be great, thanks."

She smiled tiredly. "No problem." Her brown eye slipped up to Monroe's, "Do you mind? I really have to get going."

"Yeah, no problem," The Blutbad glanced at Nick. "Thanks again, man."

"No problem. I live to serve."

With that, the cop departed and the couple got into the Bug.

For the first couple minutes, they did what they always did in the car. Fight over the radio. After about fifteen minutes of bickering, Monroe changed the topic as Gwen began pulling twigs from her hair.

"So, was Morgan mad?"

"Not really, more…disappointed, I guess." The woman unrolled the window and tossed a leaf out of it. She smirked sheepishly, "I missed an appointment with a customer."

He cocked a brow. "An important customer?"

"All our customers are important." She responded sternly. Her full lips pursed a moment before she went on, "Morgan's thinking about selling the bakery."

Monroe's eyes slipped from the road. "Oh?"

"Mhm. Just for a little while. I think the break in freaked her out more than she'd like to admit." Frankly, it had scared Gwen as well, but she wasn't about to tell him that. He'd get all sentiment. Or worse, he'd get all overprotective. Licking her lips, Gwen threw another twig from her hair out the window. "Maybe head back on the road with the Teulu for a while."

The man was quiet a few minutes. Until they reached town in fact. Gwen didn't seem to notice. She was too busy dicking around with the radio to care( after deciding her hair was a lost cause, the witch had gone back to what she was good at- trying to annoy Monroe).

A tension had set in the Blutbad's at the thought of Morgan leaving. If she left, Gwen would no doubt follow. Witches, like Blutbadden, were pack creatures. They didn't call themselves that, too primal, but they often stayed in large numbers and almost never in one place for too long. His mind was still swimming when he pulled into his parking lot.

Gwen wasted no time and hopped out of the Bug. However, when she realized she wasn't being followed, she poked her head back in the window.

"Monroe." When he didn't respond, she reached in and gave his hair a tug. He bared his teeth at her in warning, but she ignored the faint fear the glance stirred in her. It was fear anyway, she reasoned as she nodded toward the house. "Come on, I gotta go."

"You're not going anywhere." Monroe growled at her. His eyes remained blood red and his features remained wolfish.

Gwen swallowed and went on nonchalantly, "I'm going to work. Duh."

Another low, aggressive noise from the man. Gwen let go of his hair and gently stroked his cheek. Monroe nuzzled against it, enjoying the soft touch and the scent of her blood as it pumped through her veins. He nipped at her wrist playfully and the woman felt any worries she had about him slip away. He was dangerous, yes, but he'd never hurt her. A hint of guilt ate away at her for even thinking it.

Pushing that aside, the witch smiled at him. "Come on, fy cariad." She cooed gently. "I still have about an hour before my shift starts."

His face returned to normal, but his eyes stayed red and he unbuckled his seatbelt. "Why didn't you say so?"

**A/N: Two chapters left before the big reveal. Excited? You should be.**


	16. Labor Day Weekend Day Three

**Labor Day Weekend Day Three**

It was just after two a.m when a frantic knocking at his door woke him up.

Monroe jerked awake. Confused, he looked around his living room. What the hell was he doing down here? His cello was still laid out, albeit in it's case but-

"Monroe!"

Gwen's frightened shriek snapped him back to reality and he ran to the back door. Throwing it open, he was met with the witch's frightened features and shaking hands as they latched onto his arm.

"What's wrong?" He demanded, trying to pull her inside. "What happened?

"Monroe, please, you've gotta come with me-" The petite woman refused to be pulled in, instead jerking him out.

"What's wrong?" Monroe repeated, her panic infecting him. "Gwen." He cupped her face in his hands. Her eyes remained frightened, but he had her attention. "What happened?"

"Someone's been in my house." She breathed. His hands went rigid and she could feel his finger nails sharpen in to claws on her cheeks.

Rage seethed through the Blutbad at the thought of his mate being threatened. "Stay here." He ordered her. "Lock the doors."

"What? No! It's my house!" She wasn't able to mask her fear very well as she continued to shake under his touch. "I just- need some back up. Just in case."

He clenched his fangs at that, but agreed. "Fine, but stay close."

Gwen nodded and followed him as he jumped her fence.

The Blutbad all but ripped her back door off its hinges. He could feel the slight tug of her hands fisting the back of his flannel shirt. Hear the blood rushing through his ears. A growl escaped his throat as he caught a scent. A male one. Unfamiliar and faint. Whoever had been here was gone now, he was certain, but he went around her house just in case. The scent was strongest in the kitchen, but that didn't faze him much.

"Well?" Gwen asked, voice quiet, "What do you think?"

"Let's pack you some stuff." He turned his face toward her slightly. "You're staying with me."

The woman nodded submissively and allowed herself to be led to her bedroom. Monroe was hyper vigilant as the tiny woman –god she seemed so much smaller now than she had only a few hours ago, at least in his mind- grabbed a bag from underneath her bed. He arched a brow at her but she only shrugged.

"I've gotten kind of used to being run out."

The Blutbad didn't comment, just ushered her out of the room. He took the bag from her and guided her back down the stairs.

The house which had been so warm and inviting the day before now seemed harsh and cold in the dim light. Gwen was glad when Monroe kept a tight grip on her shoulder. She leaned closer to his larger form. The man pulled her in to his side and sniffed the air once again.

Yes, whoever had been here was gone now. He was sure of it. Monroe rubbed his head against her comfortingly. "Come on, you're gonna stay with me from now on, okay?"

"Okay." The witch murmured as she glanced around her shambled kitchen.

When a sigh escaped her throat, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Come on. Things'll be better in the morning."

Gwen doubted that, but followed him out in to the night regardless.

Monroe locked the door behind her and frowned as the woman continued into the living room without him. He heard her take a seat on the couch. Frowning, he grabbed a bottle of wine from the shelf and joined her. Without bothering with glasses, he handed it to her.

"We should call Nick."

"No."

"What is it with you and law enforcement?" Monroe chided, watching as she took a heavy gulp of the wine. "This is the second time someone's broke in and you're not even going to entertain the idea of calling him?"

The brunette shook her head and grimaced as she swallowed. "No. No cops."

"But-"

"Look," Her dark eyes flashed at him. "I said no. I'll be fine, okay, just don't tell him."

The man sighed. "Fine." Reluctantly he nodded, "I won't tell him. But you're staying here until we get this settled, okay?"

Gwen smirked humorlessly at him. It was an unattractive, almost cruel look. "If you wanted me to move in, you could've just asked."

Monroe blushed and looked away from her. An awkward silence blanketed them. The woman tucked her feet underneath her and sipped from the bottle once again. Her eyes flickered over to the cello case.

"Have you been playing?" She asked, breaking the silence as she stood. The bottle was set, forgotten, on the table as she moved.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, earlier today." The Blutbad blinked out of his daze. He leaned back on the couch as she twittered about his living room. "Gwen? We can't just sweep this under the rug."

Her arms crossed over her chest. "I don't see why not. From what I can tell, nothing was taken. I know…I know you worry, but, it's not that big'a deal, really."

Shaking his head, Monroe reached for the wine.

Gwen didn't notice. Just stared at one of his many clocks as she went on, more to herself really. "It's stupid to get upset over it. If someone was going to threaten me, it wouldn't be on my own turf. That's just stupid."

The man lifted his head, listening to her mutterings.

"Besides, I can't even think of anyone in this town who would have a problem with me…I mean; I've kept a low profile. Haven't made any deals or promises, much less any that went sour…" She snapped herself out of her thoughts and turned to face him with a fake smile. "When're you gonna play that cello for me, anyway, Wolf Boy?"

The look he was giving her suggested he was more saddened than annoyed with her. The very thought of him being upset with her made her stomach clench and the feeling only got worse when he stood. His dark eyes searched her face, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks. Pressing his brow to hers, he inhaled her soft, unique scent and closed his eyes.

Gwen peered up at him, puzzled, before gently putting her arms around his waist. "Please don't be mad at me."

The plea had been so low he almost missed it. His chest tightened and he shook his head weakly. "Not mad. Just worried."

"Don't worry, either."

Monroe chuckled bitterly as she cuddled into his chest. "I still want you to talk to Nick. Or at least think it over. You don't have to file any kind of formal thing but…he's a friend. He'll look out for you." _If I ask him to_, he added mentally. He knew that wasn't entirely fair to Nick, but figured it was true enough. "Promise me you'll consider it."

"Okay." The woman nodded, "I'll think about it."

"Come on," Monroe kept his voice light and offered her a soft smile. "Let's go to bed, okay? Things'll be better in the morning."

Still a bit apprehensive, she nodded. His hand took hers and the man led her upstairs to his bedroom. They undressed quickly. Monroe got down to his boxers and t-shirt(which he always wore to bed, no matter how much Gwen pleaded) and his lady striped completely nude. They slipped into bed wordlessly. With his arm secure around her waist and her bare back tightly pressed to his clothed chest, Gwen sighed. She laced her fingers through his. The Blutbad gave them a squeeze.

"Hey, Gwen?"

"Mhm?"

"What's the deal with your tattoo?"

She glanced back at him. His gaze was focused on the arrangement of feathers and small bird-like foot prints that lead to what appeared to be some type of skull. He let go of her hand to walk his fingers across them.

A giggle rose in her throat. "The Crow is my family's guide."

"And that means…"

"It's kind of like a coat of arms. A representation of what we want to be. Free, deceptive and ominously aware…" Her nose scrunched up with distaste. "Mind you, some of its poetic license gets lost in translation."

Monroe blinked. "Sounds…uh, nice."

The witch chuckled. "It's kind of like the wolf you have on your door. It's why my knocker is a skull."

"Your _what_?"

"My door knocker."

Monroe paused. He was fairly certain he had never used Gwen's front door. With a faint blush he nodded, "Oh, right." He rested his head against hers and closed his eyes. "Because that's not totally weird or anything."

"Not where I come from." She replied, her eyes fluttering closed as the warmth of his breathe hit her cheek.

They were asleep in mere minutes. The next morning, Monroe slipped out of bed soundlessly. After the first few months of them being together, he had mastered the art of sliding out from her touch to do his regiment. He peered down at her with warmth, his fingers reaching out to brush a dark curl from her cheek. The man liked it when she stayed over; her scent lingered on his sheets for days after. With a small smile on his lips, he left her to start his Pilates.

An hour later, he came back to his bedroom, cello in hand.

**A/N:** Okay, there are eight more chapters of this story before the sequel. Excited? You should be. Also, I'm working on a new Monroe/OFC story about him being forced to mate with someone(resulting in pregnancy) and how they find each other and work out their issues. Should I post it here or just on tumblr? Thoughts and opinions please.


	17. Halloween

**Halloween**

The Halloween rush had just begun to die down when Nick entered the bakery. Gwen flashed him a smile, albeit a bemused one, and went back to serving her last few customers.

"Have a good one." She waved to a frazzled looking middle aged woman as she walked to her to the door. "Happy Halloween!"

"You too, dear!" The lady replied absently.

Gwen shut the door behind her. Flipping the sign to closed, she turned to the detective, "Hi! Let me guess, donuts?"

"Uh, no actually I'm off the clock." He told her. "I need your help with something."

"Me?" Her eyes widened as she pointed to herself. "I mean, really? You're trusting me with something?"

"It has to do with your…heritage." Nick licked his lips.

The brunette didn't notice as she pulled out a couple cookies that hadn't been sold from the display case. She set them in front of him and went around the counter to get a glass of milk. "My heritage? What? Is there like a leprechaun on the loose or something?"

The joke didn't go over well. "No. A witch."

Gwen's body went rigid. Her back to him, her could see her shoulders tense and heard her clear her throat before she turned back around. A glass jug of milk was clenched tightly in her hands, a frown on her lips. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Gwen. Monroe told me."

"I don't know-"

"You're a _Dewiniaeth_, right? You're bargainers, right?" Nick pressed. "Look, I wouldn't ask but most of my aunt's texts aren't in English and-"

The bottle slipped from the woman's hands. It shattered as it hit the floor, but Gwen didn't notice. Her pale features flushed prettily, but she paid the heat on her cheeks no mind. "You…why would he tell you that?"

Nick blinked. Monroe had told him not to ask about her family when they first started going out, but he had assumed the Blutbad had let her in on their secret. Monroe had gone as far as to tell him the subject of being a Grimm made her uncomfortable. Nick sighed and rubbed his brow. "He hasn't told you."

"Hasn't told me _what_?"

"Never mind, forget I was here, okay?" Nick stood, but Gwen was in front of him before he could move.

"_No!_ You know my family's name and what I am! I have a right to know just what the hell you are!" She growled at him, eyes black and skin drenched in inky lines.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," The cop told her, "I wouldn't do that. I just needed some information about a _Hexenbiest_ I'm looking for."

Gwen's face contorted once again, back to its original, familiar state. The look of hurt on her features just about broke his heart. He cringed as she asked, "You're a Grimm?"

"Gwen-"

"_You're a fucking Grimm!"_ Images of all the times she had welcomed him in to her home, all the times she had smiled and joked with him rushed back to her. Enraged she began to shriek at him, barely able to form words as she lashed out. "_Get out! Get out, get out, get out before I strike you down where you stand, you- you fucking pig!_"

Nick reached out for her once again. This time he managed to take her by the shoulders. He winced as she began to sob. Every blow she had landed seemed weak by comparison to his friend's tears. "Gwen, please!"

The window of the display case shattered, sending pieces of glass showering over them. Both jumped. Their gazes whipped over to where Morgan Ceridwen stood, deadly calm and perfectly still.

"Get your hands off my granddaughter, Grimm."

Nick swallowed and let her go. "I didn't come here to start a fight."

"A wise decision." The matriarch smirked coldly at him. "You should leave now."

"I should leave now," The man agreed sheepishly. His gaze went to Gwen. Tears were still falling from her brown eyes, but she wouldn't look at him, even as he spoke. "Monroe made it seem…I thought you knew."

"Get out." She muttered. Swallowing, she gathered the courage to look him in the eye. "And don't come back. Don't you _ever_ come back."

Nick nodded and left. For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence in the small shop. Morgan sighed and slowly approached her granddaughter. She went to put her arm around her, but was shrugged off.

"I have to go."

"Gwendolyn. We need to-"

"Later," The younger witch sniffed and wiped her eyes. "There's something I have to do."

The white haired woman nodded and brushed her fingers over her granddaughter's cheeks in a familiar gesture of affection. "Be careful."

"Lock the door, okay?" Gwen kissed her Gran's cheek and turned to leave. "I'll be back soon."

Helplessly, Morgan watched her go. She frowned as she noticed the Grimm was still in the parking lot, but when he didn't try to approach her kin, she left him be. She locked the door tightly and pulled down the shade.

Across town, Monroe was in the middle of making dinner. Nothing fancy, he knew they'd probably end up binging on Halloween candy before they even got any Trick'r'Treaters. A smile twitched at his lips.

In the few short weeks that he and Gwen had been living together, he had found he rather liked her little tweaks to his regiment. She knew he needed to keep a schedule to be comfortable and rarely tried to pull him from it. Instead, she would drag him out for a walk or distract him in more carnal ways(usually on his Pilates machine) as an 'extra form of exercising'. Besides that, the only real thing that had changed was that he now met up with Nick at the trailer.

A brisk knock on his back door jarred him from his thoughts. He turned off the stove and headed over to it as it became more frantic. "Hang on! I'm coming, jeeze."

Gwen slammed it open as his hand turned the knob. "_You!"_

"Me?" Monroe arched a brow. "What'd I do?"

"How could you?"

He blinked, his guard coming up. "How could I what?"

"A fucking _Grimm_? Are you _kidding_ me? Do you know how stupid that is?" The brunette pushed him, hard in the chest. Monroe barely moved at the force, his feet rooted to the spot as she went on. Horrified she snapped at him, "Are you trying to get yourself killed? _You stupid fucking mutt!"_

"Hey! Nick is a-"

"_Fuck!"_ She hit him again. The tears that she had fought so hard in the car starting to well once again. Another rough shove hit his chest as the small woman. "_You told him about me! About my family! How fucking could you?"_

"Gwen, stop." The wolf grit his teeth. He could feel anger bubbling in his chest each time she struck him.

"_I trusted you! I told you about my family, my customs and you use me to help a fucking Grimm?"_ Unable to restrain herself, she slapped him hard across the face. Her black eyes softened as her hand stung. "I loved you."

Time seemed to slow as his eyes bled red and he glared down at her. But she didn't notice. Hate, for his lies and betrayals, and shame, for being foolish enough to trust him, fueled her pain as she snarled, "I thought dogs were supposed to be loyal?"

Monroe only stared at her as she stormed out. The sound of children's laughter and the gate slamming closed filled the aching silence she had left in her wake. His cheek stung and his heart hammered as he fought the urge to chase her.

She'd come back. She had to come back. Swallowing thickly, he closed the door.

Yeah, Monroe sniffed, her scent fading with the autumn breeze; she'd be back.

**A/N: Oh I better get some reviews for this one.**


	18. Thanksgiving Day One

**Thanksgiving Day One**

Slowly but surely, the Blutbad accepted that Gwen wasn't coming back. He had tried calling her a few times, but after she picked up and basically told him more or less to go to hell, he was too discouraged to try again.

He had also gone over to her house once. Only once. She hadn't opened the door, but the familiar sting in his nose told him that he was unwelcome. That he was _undesired_. The thought of her dismissing him so easily made his chest ache, so most of his time was spent completely avoiding her. It got to the point where he no longer kept track of her comings and goings and no longer cared that she hated him…well, mostly.

Monroe's relationship with Nick had also been briefly strained. The two had made up, of course, but a small part of the wolf was still a touch resentful that Nick went behind his back. But they were back to solid ground soon enough. In fact, in order to avoid catching sight of his ex, Monroe had taken to spending quite a bit of time with Nick. In the trailer, helping him practice his hunting and tracking skills in the woods. As much time as he could, really.

It was a cool November afternoon and Monroe had just started his last clock for the day when there was a knock on his door. With a roll of his eyes the man stood. His legs were slightly stiff, as was his back but a quick stretched popped everything back in to place as he geared up to scold Nick for not calling before he came over.

He swung the door open to find, not the detective, but an unfamiliar young man standing there. Monroe blinked. "Uh…hello."

"Hi," The stranger was a boy of perhaps no more than twenty, with dark hair and even darker eyes that clashed with his pale skin. He was dressed in casual, well worn clothing and had an army style duffel bag slung over his back. He offered Monroe a tight smile. "I think you know my sister. Gwen?"

The Blutbad nodded, realization dawning on his features. He thought the boy smelt familiar. "You must be Harris."

"That's me," The boy replied sheepishly. "I was just wondering if you've seen my sister around lately? I haven't been able to get a hold of her in the past week."

"No. I haven't seen her, sorry." Monroe's features tightened and he went to shut the door.

Harris' hand shot out to stop him. "Wait! You don't understand!"

"Look kid, I'm sure she's told you all about-"

"Yeah, yeah, you being a bastard and your boyfriend being a Grimm, I know, but please-"

"He's not my boyfriend!" Monroe snapped, his eyes went red as he growled, "Let go of my door!"

"Please, I need your help."

The larger man faltered. "Why'd you want my help? With everything that happened with Gwen…I figured you'd hate me."

Harris sighed. When he rubbed his neck, Monroe spotted a few silver rings on his hand. "Look, I know things didn't exactly end well with my sister, but she loved you. A lot. If she didn't she wouldn't have been so upset with you."

"Then why-"

"Right now, we have bigger problems than your love life, okay?" Harris' brown eyes glittered black in the bright sunlight. "Will you help me or not?"

"Help you with what?" Monroe asked with disinterested.

"Gwen's missing. Morgan, too."

The wolf's heart just about stopped. He opened the door wider and nodded, "Come in."

Harris brushed past him. Dropping his bag onto the hard wood floor with a heavy thud, the boy turned to face him. His expression was tense, his eyes black as he addressed the wolf. "I'm only going to ask this once; did you hurt my sister? Physcially, I mean?"

Monroe glared at him, "Never."

"Did you love her?"

"Yes."

That seemed to be a good enough answer for him, and Harris nodded. "Fine. You wouldn't have any idea where she might be, would you?"

"I haven't seen her in the last week or so," Monroe moved past the young man, eying the army pack with wariness. It had a strange scent to it; not unpleasant, but certainly odd.

Charred wood, mixed herbs and blood. That unique coppery stench of blood- not just human and not just Dewiniaeth either. "We're not exactly on the best terms right now."

"I know." Harris scooped his bag up off the floor and followed the Blutbad into the kitchen. "But you're neighbors, I mean, haven't you seen her around?"

"Nope." Monroe poked his head in the fridge. "You want a beer man?"

"No." Annoyance was clear in the boy's tone, but the clockmaker dismissed it. "I didn't come here to socialize. Half my family is missing- you might be the only thing able to help me find them."

"Why me?" Monroe snapped at him, slamming the fridge door shut. "Why do you think I can help?"

"Because you're friends with a cop." Harris told him, his dark brown eyes looking tired and strained. "Please. My father would skin me if he knew I was getting someone like you involved, much less a Grimm."

"Someone like me?"

"A Blutbad." Harris licked his lips absently, "He didn't exactly react well when Gwen told him. He even stopped talking to her."

Monroe felt a hint of guilt at that, but didn't comment.

"If you ever cared about my sister you'll help me. I just need a favor-"

The larger man chuckled. "You here to make a deal, Dewiniaeth?"

Harris looked a touch hurt by the prospect and Monroe couldn't help but wonder why. That's what the Dewiniaeth did. Made deals. They were bargainers; trade your son for the ability to spin gold and your daughter for a head of lettuce type deals were their specialty.

"If it comes to that." Harris frowned and dropped his pack on the kitchen table. "Do you think you could help me…_find_ whoever did this?"

"And what do you intend on doing to the sorry bastard who did this? Assuming they didn't just pack up and leave, that is." Monroe asked, raising the bottle to his lips.

Harris's eyes narrowed slightly. "They didn't. Gwen, maybe but not Morgan, too. Not without calling. And I'm going to disembowel the sorry son of a bitch." His brown eyes gleamed black in the diming light from the window's. "They won't even have enough for a proper pier."

"Oh, that's- that's just lovely." Monroe shook his head and took a gulp of his beer. "Where'd you want to start?"

"I filed a police report, but haven't gotten anything back on it." He sniffed and opened his bag. "I was thinking we could check out the bakery. Gwen's house was clean of any talismans or hexes, but all her stuff's still there so I don't think she ever made it home."

"Home from where?" Monroe asked curiously as he approached. Definitely blood. He pulled one of the small mason jars from the bag, his eyes sharpening as he asked, "Is this Blutbadden?"

Harris took it from him. "It was a trade." He looked up at his sister's ex. "I didn't hurt anybody to get it, if that's what you're all huffy about."

"I am not huffy." The wolf told him stubbornly. "What else ya got?"

"All I need for a hunting spell…but I need to know who I'm hunting."

A touch sarcastically, Monroe offered, "Your grandmother and sister, perhaps?"

"I can't track them at the same time; besides, it's hard for us to track each other." Harris faltered. He hated divulging his family's secrets to an outsider, much less someone who had hurt his sister. "The blood's too similar- you end up chasing yourself in circles…" He dropped his gaze and carefully set the jar back in his pack. "Trust me, I've already tried."

Monroe sighed. "Okay. Tell me what I need to do."

"Just come to the bakery with me. Help me look around."

So he did. The Gingerbread House was unsurprisingly empty, with the front and back doors locked tight along with every window in the place. Harris seemed unfazed as he casually picked up a large rock and threw it through the window.

"What is B&E like a family pass time or something?" Monroe asked, wonder clear in his voice as Harris reached a hand inside the broken glass to unlock the door.

The boy tilted his head, "What? Insurance will cover it."

The wolf just rolled his eyes in exasperation. Maybe he had dodged a bullet with Gwen; her whole family seemed utterly unstable to him.

The pair entered the bakery casually, and Monroe was pleased to note that Morgan hadn't bothered to put in an alarm system after the break in. When he commented on this, the boy seemed surprised.

"There was a break in? When?"

"A few months back; someone broke into Gwen's house too."

Harris frowned and began to look around. Monroe did the same, but really had no idea where to start. Nothing about the place seemed off. Everything was in its proper place. There was no sign of forced entry…besides their own forced entry.

A frown laced the boy's face as he came out of the back room, a large book in his hands. He dropped it down on one of the bakery's tiny tables and frowned. A ledger had been tucked inside. Harris began comparing the contents of the notebook it had been slipped into.

"Find something?" Monroe asked.

"Maybe. Gram tracks everything she sells- just in case." Harris pursed his full lips, "This is dated last Sunday…she should've had at least nine other callers since then."

"So…"

"So my Gram wouldn't leave nine people without their meds." Harris snapped at him, "Neither would Gwen."

"Meds?" Monroe echoed, trying to keep his voice light. "What do you mean meds?"

"What? You think they just sold cookies and pies and shit?" The boy sneered at him, "We might not be making large medical break troughs, but we know a thing or two about easing pain. Looks like they were selling to chemo patients… a few MS patients too."

Monroe bit the inside of his cheek. Gwen had never told him any of that. "What were they getting in return?"

"Whatever they could spare, I guess." Harris ran a finger along one of them, "Hm. I guess we got a few people to check out…"

"I guess we do." The Blutbad sighed and pulled out his cell. "I'll call Nick, see if he can help us."

Harris' features darkened a touch, but he nodded. "Okay."

The boy leaned back in the chair, a frown on his lips as he watched the man his sister had been so enamored with call his Grimm. His jaw clenched slightly. He was enlisting the help of a Blutbad; an ally of a Grimm- hell, _he_ was enlisting a Grimm. If his father could see him now, Harris was certain that he too would've been blacklisted by the Teulu. The boy licked his lips and stood.

Monroe watched as the kid began to pace uneasily in front of him. He cleared his throat as Nick answered, "Hey, man, I need a favor."

"Name it." The cop replied over the line without missing a beat.

"Gwen's missing."

There was a hesitant pause over the line. Gwen had been a fairly touchy subject with Monroe as of late, so Nick made sure to tread lightly. "Uh…missing how? Like, went back on the road and didn't tell me or…"

"Or her brother showed up at my door and says he can't find her or her grandmother and no one's been in the shop for like days, man."

"Damn…did he file a report?"

"Yes he filed a report!" Monroe snapped, watching the young man in question. Harris was about five foot ten, maybe a hundred and eighty pounds; dark circles hung from his brown eyes and he looked like he hadn't slept in a while. With a sigh, the Blutbad went on. "We've got a list of some people they might've seen…but we can't really just barge into their houses."

"So you're thinking a little police escort might be in order?" Nick offered. Monroe could practically feel his smirk over the line. "I suppose I could be of some assistance. I'll stop by after my shift, okay?"

"Okay, we'll be at the house."

Harris looked up from his worn sneakers as Monroe hung up. "Well?"

Monroe shrugged, "Get ready to meet your first real live Grimm, kiddo."

**A/N: SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT! I SUCK I KNOW!**


	19. Thanksgiving Day 2 Part 1

**Thanksgiving Day 1 Part 2**

"I thought you'd be bigger."

Nick entered Monroe's house without knocking a little after one am to find a young Dewiniaeth man highly intoxicated in the Blutbad's kitchen.

Harris sniffed, his eyes bloodshot as his teeth bared in a sneer. "You're kinda…small for a Grimm…Were you like a preemie or somethin'?"

Nick just stared at him for a full five seconds before turning to Monroe. "That is definitely Gwen's brother."

"No shit." The larger man rolled his eyes. One sniff and he could've told Nick that. "I thought you'd be here a lot sooner."

"How did he get so-"

"Wasted?" Monroe offered, a touch harshly. Perhaps if his friend had shown up at the agreed time, the Blutbad would've shown some patience. But not now. Not this late at night. He was too tired for patience. "I'm not entirely sure. It could've been the two beers I offered him or _the entire bottle of cooking sherry_ he got in to when I wasn't looking."

The smaller man glanced at Harris(who let out an appropriately timed hiccup that shook his whole body) with a touch of impressed good humor. "And he's still sober enough to crack wise?"

"Don't encourage him. I've heard enough wolf jokes to last me a lifetime in the past five hours." Monroe motioned his friend over to the table where the boy sat.

Harris glared at the cop, but said nothing. Just slid over the ledger and the thick leather bound book. Nick didn't think much of the kid's suspicions of him; he was used to being on the outskirts of Wesen culture and hadn't expected to be welcomed with open arms. His bright blue eyes lifted to Harris' brow. "Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt your family?"

"Well. There's you." Harris counted off on his finger. The boy shook his head, going on in a Welsh accent he hadn't had when he had arrived on Monroe's doorstep. "Other than that, nope. Maybe Virginia Wolf over there, but, no. This was a clean town." He sniffed to fight his tears, "They should'a been safe here."

"Hm." Nick looked down at the papers, lined with addresses and phone numbers of everyone listed. The handwriting didn't match the feminine loops of Morgan Ceridwen's and he looked over at Monroe curiously, "Where'd you get all this?"

All he got was an apathetic reply of; "Phone book." Monroe crossed his arms over his broad chest and sighed. "What'd we do now?"

"Wait 'til morning to begin the interviews I guess."

Harris jabbed Nick in the chest. "One'a you killed my dad's woman."

"Well, I can assure you it wasn't me."

"Nah." Harris shook his head. "You weren't even born yet. Or yer parents. Maybe even yer grandparents."

Monroe rolled his eyes and heaved the slight young man to his feet. "Alright, kiddo, time to sleep it off."

"Psh! Kid!" The young witch cackled as the wolf led him away. "I was chasin' tail before you were sniffin' it!"

Nick rolled his eyes with a good humor and opened the ledger as the pair disappeared from sight. He listened to them argue all the way up the stairs(mostly about Monroe's attempt at discipline) before directing his attention to the notebook. A schedule lay inside, that much was obvious, although the Grimm was unable to read anything in it. The writing was foreign and he recalled that the Ceridwen family was Welsh. He frowned at a few of the address that were on the out skirts of town. Nick decided it would be best to take Monroe with him, obviously, and start from the places closest to The Gingerbread House outward.

He was jotting in his notebook when Monroe came back into the kitchen. Nick didn't look up from his work, just asked, "Have you met any of her customers?"

"Nah. I wasn't exactly welcomed with open arms by Morgan." The larger man slid into the seat across from him. His features were worn and taut, his brown eyes dark with sleep. "I should've known something was up, you know."

"How could you have possibly known?" The detective asked curiously. "You and Gwen were over, you said so yourself. She wasn't your responsibility."

"The bakery had a couple break ins. Same with Gwen's house." Monroe confessed wit a frown on his lips. "That's why she was staying here."

Nick eyes narrowed as he thought it over. He vaguely recalled Gwen saying something about it, but couldn't place when. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"She asked me not to. Begged me, really."

"Did she have any idea what they could've wanted? Who they were?"

Monroe shook his head. "They never took anything. Just trashed the place."

The cop stood. He paced a moment. "Than they must have been looking for something."

His friend let out a snort of doubt. "Like what? I'm not sure if you ever noticed, but Gwen's place isn't exactly lined with valuables. Her grandmother used to say she was the only thing worth anything in it."

"What?"

"What?" Monroe repeated with confusion.

"You don't find that an odd thing to say?" Nick asked with a shake of his head. "I mean, they're witches."

"So?"

"So what makes them valuable?"

"Their-" Monroe faltered. Swallowing thickly, he paused a moment before going on. "Their blood."

With a grimace, Nick asked what he meant by that. His friend set about telling him how blood was used by witches because of its magic properties, how it tied a spell together. The detective listened closely with pursed lips as he continued to pace around the kitchen. Every so often, he would pause with a question, but more often than not Monroe didn't know the answer.

"She kept that stuff pretty close to the chest." He told him. Scratching his beard, the Blutbad went on, "She said it was a family thing."

"It is."

The pair looked to find Harris standing in the doorway. Solemn(and considerably more sober), he swallowed as his red rimmed eyes locked on Monroe's brown. "No wonder she was so mad…she must've really trusted you to tell you all that."

The Blutbad bowed his head in shame. Ignoring this, Nick asked, "Is there any way you could scent her?"

"I could try, but not with Harris so close," His brown eyes went to the witch's. "You said it yourself, the blood's too similar. Any way you could?"

"I could what? Find her on my own? I've been trying for days, man." Harris moved further into the kitchen. He braced a hip against the counter as he spoke. "I might be able to whip up a tracking spell, but I wouldn't be able to use it myself. Not with my blood anyway…I'd need another Dewiniaeth from outside our Teulu."

"Well, where would we find one of those?" Nick asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

The younger man shrugged. "We won't. I don't know anyone in this town, neither did Gram or Gwen."

"We'll go out in the morning," Monroe told him. "Me and Nick." His dark gaze shifted from the detective to the witch. "Is there anything you can do?"

Harris thought for a few moments before nodding. "Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Maybe. It'll take some time, but, yeah, if I start on it now it should work by morning." Harris told them, moving over to grab his pack.

Monroe wrinkled his nose as the witch began emptying the pack he had brought with him on his table. Most of the concoctions were magical, emitting a faintly familiar scent that made his stomach ache.

Nick sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Do I need to be here for this?"

"Just a sec." Harris grabbed a medicine bowl and knife and beckoned him forward. "Gimmie your hand and you can go."

"Uh…" Blue eyes locked skeptically on the knife. "Is this really necessary?"

"Actually, yeah, it is. I can't use Monroe, his blood will taint it." He motioned for the detective to come closer. "I'll heal you after, I promise."

With a glance at Monroe(from whom he received no support), Nick moved forward. Harris took his hand and sliced along his lifeline, telling him, "No need for obvious scaring, right?" before tipping the jar underneath to catch his blood. Monroe balked at the smell, but didn't move. Harris set the jar down and wiped the knife on his jeans. Just as quickly, he slid the blade along his palm.

"I assume you don't have any disease transmissible by blood?"

"Nope." Nick shook his head.

"Good." Harris told him to tilt his palm out and Nick did as he was told. The witch's black blood poured over his wound. The unpleasant stench of burning flesh filled the air as the detective hissed. The cut sizzled and burned as the flesh mended itself back together. With no empathy, Harris rolled his eyes. "Don't be an infant."


	20. Thanksgiving Day 2 Part 2

**Thanksgiving Day 2 Part 2**

Monroe woke up as he normally did. He considered going about his regular routine, but after catching sight of Harris bent over his little voo doo chemistry set, eyes blank and exhausted, he didn't have the heart to leave him.

"Should be done any minute now," The young witch told him with a weak smile.

The Blutbad nodded silently and went about making them both some coffee. After a moment he reconsidered and passed his squatter a glass of orange juice. Harris looked dubiously at it, but accepted it with thanks. As the pot began to drip, Monroe slid into the seat across from him.

"Are you sure this is going to work?"

Harris nodded as he gulped down the juice. Cringing, he swallowed thickly. With a ragged breathe, he told him, "Yeah. I mean, I got everything right. I don't know how susceptible the Grimm will be to the enchantment, but it should be fine."

Monroe nodded. They sat in silence a moment before he broke it once again. "Do you think they're okay?"

"I think they're _alive_." The witch rephrased. "I'd feel it if they weren't." Curious eyes swept over the tired wolf's face. "Do…do you still love her?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"No…I just…I don't know. I guess I never pegged Gwen to settle down with a mortal." Harris replied honestly. He tilted his head. "I thought Blutbaden only liked other Blutbaden?"

Monroe tried not to let the phrase _mortal_ stick in his mind to long as he shot back; "I thought witches only liked other witches."

"No, I mean I thought it was a biological thing. What with the instincts and junk…I figured you wouldn't be compatible with anything else."

Monroe cringed at the word _thing_ but didn't comment on it. Instead, he shrugged. "I didn't plan on it. It just sort of…"

"Fell in to place?" The witch offered gently. A twitch of a smile pulled at his lips. "That's how Gwen described it."

The wolf nodded. "Yeah."

"Well…I'm sorry it didn't work out. Maybe you two can patch things up."

Monroe doubted that. Hearing the click of his coffee maker, he stood. "So, how's this enchantment work?"

"Well, once you come within a certain radius, say, fifty to seventy five feet of one of us, Nick will feel a burning sensation."

"Okay, first off, he'll feel a burning sensation where exactly?"

Harris shrugged. He rubbed his eyes absently, "Depends where we put it."

"Second, what do you mean us? Like Wesen?"

"No, like Dewiniaeth. Anyone who shares our blood."

Two hours later, Harris repeated this to Nick. The man didn't look terribly pleased about the prospect of being burned again by whatever mystic voodoo Harris had worked, but agreed quickly enough. With only a heavy sigh, the detective took the small jar that was offered.

Peering down at it with a hint of mistrust, he asked, "How far away from you do I have to be?"

"Best wait 'til you're about…" Harris pursed his lips in thought, "Fifty feet. You'll still be able to sense me, but it won't be as insistent or well, itchy."

Monroe took the mason jar and gave its content a sniff. A startled growl escaped his throat as it burned his sinuses. His glare turned on Harris who only shrugged.

"We'll give you a call if you find anything." Nick promised. Grasping Monroe's collar, he pulled the larger man toward the door. "Try and get some sleep."

The witch gave him a nod and moved to lay on the couch as they left. The cop let go of his friend to zip his jacket up. "You think this'll work?" He asked, looking down at the jar. The substance inside is thick and dark in color, a mixture of black and blue depending on the light. He unscrewed the lid with a grimace and swirled a finger in it.

"Hopefully." Monroe gruffly replied. He raked a hand through his hair absently. "Harris says their still alive."

"How does-"

At Nick's perplexed look, he explained, "Extra sense, I guess."

They got in the car and Monroe read off the first address as Nick dabbed the substance on his palm as Harris had directed. It's already irritating the finger he used to swirl it and wondered briefly how good of an idea it was to trust one of Gwen's relatives with literally anything.

"Madeline Carmichael," Monroe dictated, along with the address, "says here she went to the shop for some kind of natural supplements."

"What, like weed?" The detective asked with an arched brow.

"You know about the weed?"

The man smirked with a shrug, "I had an inkling Gwen might be into the green stuff."

Madeline Carmichael is a short woman of around thirty who looks positivity haggard. It takes a flash of the badge and a short explanation of why their here and she quickly beckoned them inside. Monroe took two steps inside before he tripped on a pair of rollerskates some kid had left lying around. She didn't seem to notice, but Nick did and shot him a look of smug amusement.

"Don't mind the mess," She told them, one hand bracing her lower back to support her heavily pregnant belly. "My kids have kind of had the run of the place for the past couple days."

Nick smiled gently and helped ease her into a large plaid armchair. The blond gave him a quirk of a smile that was heavy with gratitude as he sat down next to Monroe. "You were a frequent customer of the Ceridwens, is that correct?"

"Oh yes," Madeline's smile drooped a bit. "They're good people. A bit…eccentric, but nice."

Nick offered her a gentle nod as he spoke. His hand was perfectly normal now that he was away from Harris, he noted as he asked, "May I ask what it was you were so intent on buying from them exclusively?"

She waved a hand, "They make some of the best morning sickness reliefs out there. They should really go into big production with it; they'd make a fortune."

"And there are no side effects?"

"Nope. At least not in my experience. This is the second one I've had using it and it's been a breeze…" Madeline frowned, "Well, except for the past few days of course."

Nick licked his lips as Monroe shifted uneasily beside him. "Can you think of anyone who'd want to hurt the Ceridwens? Any angry or dissatisfied customers?"

The blonde shook her head. "I don't think so."

Nick and Monroe stood. They shook her hand and thanked her for her time, but didn't make her walk them to the door…well, they told her she didn't have to after watching her struggle to get up for about three seconds. They shared a look as Monroe closed the door behind him before deciding, "Definitely not."

The next address on the list is of a man in his mid-fifties named Curtis Esdras. He blinked with surprise as Nick flashed his badge. He quickly motioned them in, asking "What do you thinks happened to Morgan?"

"We're not sure just yet, sir." Nick sighed when the palm of his hand remained sticky but unaffected. "Can you tell us what it was you were visiting the shop for every week?"

"I have cancer." The older man replied, a hint of sternness in his voice. "Why?"

"We're just looking everything over." Monroe replied, "Is there anyone you could think of who would want to hurt them?"

"Of course not!" Esdras shook his head, "Those girls were as sweet as they come."

Nick bowed his head, "Thank you for your time. If you think of anything, please don't hesitate to call."

When their back in the car, Nick asked for the next address.

"Jonah Heely."

Jonah Heely is a young man, perhaps no older than twenty five who looked down right terrified at the prospect of having a cop in his apartment. Monroe smirked at his nerves. He had just dared to think they had caught their break when Nick gave his head a definite shake of no. With a deep sigh, the Blutbad asked if Jonah could think of anyone who would want to hurt the Ceridwens.

The younger man paused. "Well, there was this one guy."

Nick straightened quickly. He pulled a notebook from his back pocket as he asked if Jonah could remember any specifics.

"I dunno. It was a long time ago…a couple months maybe? A guy was freaking out over something that had happened to his wife…" Jonah ran a hand with a tremor in it through his black hair with a sigh. "I just kind of skirted outta there after I got my script."

"What was it for?" The question is out of Monroe's mouth before Nick can even open his mouth and that irked the shorter man.

"Insomnia. I got young onset Parkinson's, so I don't sleep too well. Morgan gave me this stuff, knocks me right out, helps keep my mood normal…" He lifted a stiff shoulder. "Pretty sweet stuff. They should bottle it."

Nick nodded. "So we've heard."

Monroe thanked him and the pair went on their way. Nick snatched the list from the man's hand with a scowl. "I'm the detective here."

The Blutbad seemed a bit surprise. "I know."

"So let me do the investigating! You're too emotionally involved in this anyway." The man huffed and rubbed his face. The liquid remained on his palm, thankfully.

Monroe looked a touch hurt. "You want me to leave?"

"No, of course not, I just think you need to keep a level head about this. Go about it a more…gentler way." Nick gave his friend a slap on the arm. "We'll find her, we just have to be patient."

The next address they ended up at was on the outskirts of town. The woman at the door refused to open it, shaking her head and warning them that if they didn't have warrants they weren't allowed to search her property.

"Look, I don't care who's missing. I didn't have anything to do with it, now I want you to leave."

"Look, we just want to know-"

"My husband doesn't like visitors," Ginger Tobany pressed, frowning at the through the small chain lock. "And neither do I."

"Just tell us what you were going to the Ceridwens for?" Monroe growled, bracing his hand against the door. It would be so simple for him to slam it open, to rip it from its lock…

Nick grabbed him by the back of the jacket and pulled him away. The woman seemed shocked by his behavior, but didn't leave or close the door. She eyed them suspiciously, her features shifting into a familiar face.

"_Geier."_ Monroe snarled. This time he didn't hold back and with one firm kick, he send the door flying into the house. Nick barely had time to blink before the normally passive man had the woman thrown against the wall. Enraged, the Blutbad roared, "Where are they?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" The woman shrieked at him, fighting futilely in his hold.

Nick, with a calm voice, shook his head as he replied, "I'd tell him what he wants to know if I were you."

"I don't know anything! The Dewiniaeth aren't our type! The only thing we went out there for was the painkillers!" Ginger continued to writhe in the man's hold. "My husband gets migraines!"

Monroe dropped her. "You bet pray we find them alive."

The brunette glared up at him from the floor. "I haven't done anything!"

Nick nodded and grabbed Monroe by the shoulder. "We'll be back."

The detective kept his mouth shut until they were out of the house. "They aren't here."

"You don't know that for sure!"

"Harris's stuff isn't working."

Monroe scoffed. "So?"

"So I keep hearing about what miracle workers these Ceridwens are. If he gave us something, it's gonna work." Nick pressed. "Why don't you head back to the house? Do some background checks on people- you're too invested to think clearly, Monroe."

So he did. The young witch was right were they'd left him, curled up and fast asleep on the couch. Monroe threw a blanket on him and moved to grab the ledger and his computer before barricading himself in the kitchen. It was about three hours before Nick showed back up, completely exhausted. Monroe only steered him toward athe coffee pot before launching into a tirade of useless information.

"Okay, so, here's what I got. Jones, Chung, Hardy and Kay are all clear. None of them have really done anything to get them any kind of notice except Hardy had a few of his books published and Chung owns a sporting goods store downtown. Carmichael was a rather prominent lawyer before she settled down, Esdras owns a restoration business and the Tobanys have various horrible crimes against them. The only one with no paper trail at all is Jonah Heely."

Harris slowly slunk out of the living room. The men watched as he all but collapsed into the chair beside the Blutbad. "What's goin' on?" He asked as he rubbed his dark eyes.

"We're going back over the list." Nick told him. With a frown he put the ledger back down in front of the young witch. "Mind run through some of them again?"

"Sure."

"Okay, Madeline Carmichael?"

"Pregnant." Harris replied, blinking heavily.

Nick nodded. Absently, he began scratching his hand, the close proximity to Harris irritating the skin of his palm. "Curtis Esdras?"

"Lady Cancer."

Monroe looked up from his computer. "What?"

"He came in for his wife," The witch sighed, rubbing a hand over her face with a sigh. "Says she's got ovarian cancer."

Nick tilted his head. "I didn't see anything that suggested he had a wife."

"He said it was for him," The Blutbad stood, moving to hover over the now alert Harris. "Are you sure about that?"

He received an arched a brow in response, "Well, unless he needed help easing the pain of ovarian cysts, I don't think it was for him."

Nick grabbed Monroe's laptop, "Where'd you say that business was called?"

"Uh," The wolf shook his head. The idea of being tricked by a feeble old man enraged him. The fact that they had been so close and the Ceridwens had slipped through his fingers. "Definitive Restorations."

Nick typed a few words into the search engine. His eyes darted over to Harris, who looked hopeful, but he was still slumped over the table. Swallowing, Nick asked if he was alright as his blue eyes slipped over the company's website.

"I'm okay. I haven't been around the Teleu in a while so…" He lifted a weak shoulder. "Magic takes a lot out of me."

"Well, hang tight, buddy." The cop jotted the address down and passed it to Monroe.

"This is a few miles out of town…" The Blutbad put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "We'll call you when we get there, okay? Try and get some sleep."

"Okay." Harris swallowed and stood on shaky legs as he heaved a heavy sigh. He gestured to Nick's hand. "You should reapply when you get out there."

"Will do." The witch nodded and slunk back into the living room as Nick and Monroe all but ran out of the house.


	21. Thanksgiving Day 3 Part 1

**Thanksgiving Day 3 Part 1**

Nick knew they were in the right place when his hand started bothering him. He gave Monroe a nod, but the wolf only tilted his head.

"I can't smell them…"

Nick shrugged, "Maybe witches are immune to-"

"They're not." The Blutbad bristled. He took a deep breathe but couldn't smell anything but mildew and plaster in the dank warehouse. Bringing a hand up, he wiped it with a sniff. "I can't smell much of anything in here."

Nick gave his shoulder a pat and steered him in the right direction. "Come on, I think they're this way."

As they trekked through the building, Nick's hand grew more and more inflamed, a burning sensation sizzling in his palm. When they finally reached a door that led to the basement, Monroe caught a whiff of them. He scrunched up his nose, inspecting the door before his eyes landed on a small black dot. Pressing a finger to it, he realized it was dry. With a snarl, he kicked the door off its hinges.

"Monroe!" Nick called, watching in horror as his friend bounded down the stairs. "We're supposed to be incognito!"

His hollers went unheard as Monroe raced down the slim hall. He could seem everything done here, see splatters of the black blood on the ground and against a few of the walls. Finally he came to a door. He pressed his ear against it, he frowned. There was no movement behind the door, but the scent was strong there. He checked the handle as Nick jogged to a stop beside him. The shorter man glared at him, but didn't mention anything as Monroe rammed his shoulder into the door.

It swung open, and the air went tense as a small moan was heard. The Blutbad was the first inside, his gaze sweeping over the small dirty room before they landed on Morgan Ceridwen. Her lithe body was laid out on the ground, barely covered by a thin sheet that was stained with blood. Red blood. Monroe's eyes shifted red as he approached.

"Monroe, stay with Morgan!" Nick ordered, "I'm gonna go find Gwen!"

The Blutbad frowned but nodded. If he got his hands on Esdras, he'd rip him apart. The detective disappeared and Monroe gently shook the woman's shoulder. "Morgan? Morgan can you hear me?"

The witch out a whimper as he brushed her gray hair from her face. Slowly her eyes peeked open, "Gwen?"

"No, Morgan, it's Monroe? You remember-"

Her stare cleared and she tried to pull away. "Don't touch me, dog."

"Seriously?" the man huffed, helping her sit up regardless. He minded the sheet and asked, "You're still upset about the Blutbad thing?"

Morgan let out a hiss as he moved to help her stand. "I'm upset…about the fact…that you hurt…"

"Yeah, yeah, come on, let's get you out of here."

Meanwhile, Nick had succeeded in finding Gwen. Her body was limp, with deep gashes etched into her sides. Only a few stripes of cloth his her breasts from view. He rushed over to the bed she was tied to and began yanking and pulling at the knot. The detective didn't even notice the man enter the room.

"Well, detective Burkhardt, so good to see you again."

Nick's gun was pulled and aimed before he could even register the voice. Esdras stood there, perfectly placid, as he closed the door behind him. He looked pale in the light, thin and fragile as he stared at the younger man.

"You know what she is, don't you?"

"I do…how do you?"

Esdras approached cautiously. "My wife…she was a very intuitive woman…always looking for something nontraditional even on her weakest days…"

"So, what? You're pissed because they couldn't cure her cancer?" Nick asked, the hand holding the gun shaking slightly from pain. Next to him, Gwen shifted slightly. Blood splattered over her cheeks and stomach, black as oil and just as thick. A trail of it led down her navel, where it was apparent her belly ring had been ripped out.

"Of course not!" Esdras smiled. "I'm grateful for how they eased her pain…but imagine what else they could be used for, Detective."

"Nick?" Gwen croaked, her eyes fluttering as her realized who was in front of her. Who was protecting her.

Esdras glanced down at her curiously before looking up at Nick. "They have so much potential…but use it so selfishly."

"Selfish?" The detective repeated, a hand moving to try and untie her again.

"Think of what the world would be like if they just gave us what we needed to cure ourselves. No more cancer. No more MS, AIDS cured in a few quick blood transfusions…" The elderly man frowned. "Instead they keep it all to themselves. Give us a taste and take it away."

Nick watched the man carefully. His posture was stiff, his eyes blank as the man pulled a knife from his pocket. The detective's gun jerked up once again. "Put it down."

"Just let me show you…It takes a while to learn the trick, but once you do, you can get it every time."

The look on Esdras face was down right sadistic as he approached and at the sound of Gwen's frightened mew, the Grimm ordered him to drop the weapon. When the man continued forward, Nick pulled the trigger. As Esdras' body crumbled to the floor, he crossed quickly over to him to snatch the knife away.

"Is he dead?" Gwen asked, voice distant and weak as Nick reappeared in front of her.

"Yeah, he's dead." He told her in a firm tone as he sliced the ropes away from her wrists.

Her hands caught his as he went to pull away. Her brows furrowed as she looked up at him. "Harris?"

He nodded and eased her up. Nick cringed as the welts on her sides split open, trailing more black ooze down her body. "Come on, we've got to get you to a hospital."

The brunette shook her head. "Won't do no good. Need my Teulu."

"Okay," Nick pulled her arm around his shoulders. "We'll get you back to your, uh, Tee-lulu."

"Teulu," Gwen corrected, blinking heavily at him. She slumped against his body. The man more or less carried her out of the building. As they approached the stairs, she asked, "What're you doing here?"

"Your brother insisted…" The detective continued up the stairs, making sure she wasn't in too much pain as they went. "And once Monroe found out…well, he was pretty you know…"

The woman let out sigh. "Oh."

"Do…did you miss him?"

"Of course. It's just…" She cringed. "He told you stuff. Stuff I shouldn't even have told him."

Nick didn't say anything to that, didn't get the chance really, as they left the building. Monroe was on them in an instant, cupping the woman's face and keening at her scent. It was thick and smoky, heady and sweet as he marked her with his own. His eyes glowed as he pulled away to inspect her. Her brown eyes were bloodshot, but her breathing was even and strong despite her state. He brushed her hair away from her face a touch rougher than necessary.

"I'm sorry." Monroe murmured against her brow as she leaned into his touch. "I should've known something was up- I just, it was easier to shut you out and stop-"

"It's okay…Monroe, it's okay…" She nuzzled closer to him. "We can talk about this later okay? Is my Gran alright?"

He nodded feverishly, "She's fine, come on."

Harris was waiting for them on the porch of Monroe's house. He raced toward the car, ripping Nick's door open to scowl at him. "You said you'd call!"

The Blutbad in the passenger seat moved to help the ladies out of the SUV. Morgan ignored his offer, but Gwen took it readily. Monroe considered this a small victory. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his front door opening. When he turned to look, a man was staring at him with dark eyes and a frown.

"Who's that?" Monroe muttered to Gwen.

The woman frowned as she let him brace her. "My dad."


End file.
